Semper
by WingedWolf121
Summary: You are the Princess of Cornwall, who holds magic that in Camelot would get you killed. You will learn the art from the most powerful of teachers, Nimueh. If only this serving boy with the vivid blue eyes did not distract you so. Merlin/Morgana
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I was writing onesided Mergana. This happened. I don't understand how, but it did…and I change person a bit through. Oh well. I'm a lazy editor, and hopefully it isn't too jarring. **

**Disclaimer: I dinnae own the show Merlin!**

Morgana grew up in Tintagel, with a father and a mother and letters from a sister who lived in some faraway place, and whom she had never met. She grew wearing fine dresses and sitting in the banquet hall, letting the latest prince twirl her around and jabber about weaponry while she contemplated how, if he was this bad at dancing, his footwork should be horrible enough that she could unbalance him in one blow, and then stab him. Or slice his tongue off, if he did not shut up soon.

Morgana grew up in the castle by the sea, where waves crashed on the rocks beneath them and a fine spray dusted her face with salt when she stood by the cliffs. She grew playing on the slippery rocks at the bottom of the cliffs, ignoring warnings from frantic governesses to not go so near the sea. She hardly listened to her father when he lectured against her exploration of those rocks, and never slipped off them.

Morgana came close, many times. There were days when she scrabbled against the rocks, fingers tearing on barnacles and she imagined water battering her body against hard stone, her bones breaking and the pressure keeping her from breaking to the surface. Those were the nights when she sat on her father's knee by the fire in the great hall and clung to him.

But she did not tell him. It was not Morgana's nature to admit she nearly fell. Not to Gorlois, King of Cornwall, and not to Queen Lisanor, who was a distant figure to her daughter. Morgana would spend nights curled on her father's knee listening to him tell stories of a long-estranged king and their escapades. Queen Lisanor oft left the room during these stories, and hardly ever looked to the daughter born in wartime, while her husband was away.

It didn't unduly bother Morgana. Her golden haired mother was simply there, and as she gave no objection when Gorlois arranged for Morgana to learn swordplay, and when Morgana wore out governess after governess with wild abandon, Morgana did not much notice her mother.

It was perhaps not the most normal of childhoods, but it was a happy one.

Even with the dreams. The ones that came every night, sometimes with fire, sometimes with lightning, sometimes with glittering gold and screams, other times only with whispers. The whispers scare you more, because you can _almost_ hear what they say.

On those nights you rush to your father's bedchamber and clamber into his bed, let him rub your back and soothe you. You never saw the worried look in his eyes, or the way he wrote to wherever your sister was next day for advice.

But no childhood can last forever. Adulthood comes in realizing that though these foolish princes step on your feet, some are handsome, and you enjoy letting them stutter out compliments. For sure it gets boring, but they're more entertaining than the lecherous old men.

It also comes when your father says on one windy evening, as the waves crash higher up the cliffs than they normally do, that you should be married soon.

Everyone seated at the table freezes. Your mother, who is there despite that she normally takes her meals privately in her chambers. You, with your spoon of soup halfway to your mouth. Even your father freezes, looking as if he cannot believe he even dared to broach the topic.

"Excuse me?" You question him. Lisanor begins to nervously fold her napkin. Gorlois coughs.

"Morgana, you're a maiden in the prime of youth. You've been allowed to stay here this long, but the world will not pass Cornwall by forever." He looks old. For the first time you realize that there is more white than grey in his hair.

"I don't want to go!" You say before you can think of a more mature response.

"Morgana…you knew this was coming." No, you didn't.

But maybe…you think of the increase in letters to your father, the portrait of you that was taken, the way the men who visit Tintagel have been coming more often. You sag, and feel strangely afraid. You don't _want_ to marry.

"I won't marry one of those simpering boys that come here!" You cannot imagine spending a lifetime with one of those fools. Gorlois sighs.

"There's King Lot…" Your mind flashes to the last time you saw that King-a paunchy man who was beginning to go bald and who eyed you in a way that made you shudder. He's rich, and powerful, but to _marry_ him, to _bed_ him…the idea repulses you.

"He's at least twenty years my elder!" Gorlois's mouth twists up wryly. It occurs to you that your mother's golden locks are only starting to grey. Your cheeks color. "Perhaps it works for some. But father, Lot is old and balding and _fat_."

"There's Prince Arthur." Gorlois says speculatively. "You've never met him, but he's your age and by all reports a handsome boy, and though we rarely talk, King Uther used to be a dear friend to me."

"No." You are so unused to hearing your mother say anything declaratory, you don't realize who spoke. But it is Queen Lisanor, and she looks defiant. You stare at her, trying to close your mouth. "Not Camelot."

"But dear…" Father is as unsure of what to do as you are. Your mother lifts her chin in a way that makes her almost resemble _you, _and shakes her head.

"King Uther will never allow her type." You blink back and forth at the both of them, feeling confused. "He doesn't know about her, but that would certainly change if she's waking up in the night next to his son screaming about the future!"

"Lisanor." Your father says sternly. She shakes her head again.

"You will either kill her or force her to live a lie. No." Your father sighs, and you look between them, in confusion. What does Uther not know of you? You suppose you're lucky they want to marry you off to his son, not him.

"What are you two talking about?" You ask. Gorlois gets to his feet. Lisanor follows, a stubborn cast to her face that is so unfamiliar you can hardly believe this is your mother.

"Nothing." She answers for your father. You turn pleading eyes to him. Your father can never deny you when you look at him this way, and he closes his eyes as if about to make a decision he knows is bad.

"We'll tell you in the morning. Go to bed." You go to bed, and have a dream more awful than any thus far. You dream about a beheading. You dream it from the perspective of the guilty, and wake with a scream.

The hangings around your bed blow away, the window shatters, and you huddle in your bed realizing that you have magic. It isn't until the moon rises that you can unfreeze your limbs.

You stalk to your father's chambers in your silk nightgown, not bothering to dress properly. You don't _care_ if there are servants with their eyes popping around every corner, or about the maid who scurries after you pleading that you wait.

"I'm magic!" You burst into his chambers and ask incredulously. Gorlois stares at you. Your mother is there as well, in a robe and with her hair ruffled. You ignore all that and choose to focus on your father. "No one told me!"

"We didn't know." He says. You toss your head and laugh. "Your dreams. We couldn't tell if they were seer's dreams or not, they were too vague. Your sister has the gift, but we prayed you did not."

Already magic is something you feel ashamed of. You swallow and remember the thousands of tales of Uther beheading sorcerers, burning witches, drowning children.

"Don't make me go to Camelot." You whisper. "I dreamt I was being executed."

"Oh, Morgana, we would never do that." Your father comes round the table and wraps an arm around you. He looks at you with reassuring eyes. "You'll go to study. To become an Enchantress, with Morgause."

"Oh." You breathe deeply. "Where?"

"There is a place called the Isle of Bardsey. It is said that the greatest of all the practitioners lives there, and it is a place Uther Pendragon cannot yet touch." Your father looks sad. "It is a place of learning. But it is far."

That doesn't surprise you at all. After all, Morgause has never visited.

"I'll go." You do not want to be here. Your mother has not looked you in the eye. Your father has lied to you, kept things from you, and you _trusted _him. All the nights you ran to him with nightmares, and he never thought to tell you?

It feels like betrayal. In later years, you will think that you did not even know what betrayal was back then.

* * *

><p>You are sent to the Isle without much. You go riding your white palfrey, but he shies when you near the lake. At that point, the guards your father sent with you have gone. They scattered in the forest you rode through to get to the lake, and it did not surprise you. The letter from Nimueh, who is master of this place, said you had to come alone.<p>

You dismount and frown. There is a lake, one with a surface like glass. It's unmarred, serene, utterly unlike the sea you know. You can swim, but you don't fancy striking out alone into a magic lake. That's how all the moronic knights in the stories die.

But there's a boat. You hesitantly walk up to it. It's an unstable looking craft, with a scrap of cloth for a sail and what might be scorch marks along the side. It's broad enough for you to sit comfortably, and it's the only transportation.

"Is this it?" You say to no one. The letter claimed there would be transportation provided, but you expected more along the lines of a ship. It's being _kind _to call this pathetic thing a boat.

Unfortunately, there's nothing else. You walk along the water's edge for a time, searching for some other way, but the lake appears to go on forever. Besides, mist is thickening. You don't want to get lost in the fog now, and have to be rescued.

You plan on entering this Isle in a way befitting a Princess of Cornwall.

So you climb into the boat as gracefully as you can. There's no way the stallion can come with you, so you press a kiss to his forelock and murmur your thanks. Once your weight has settled on the seat, the boat moves.

You just restrain a squeak. The boat is gliding from the shore, leaving barely a ripple of wake on the glasslike lake. You grip the folds of your dress with one hand, and your sword with the other. The fog rolls in behind you, and the shoreline disappears.

But you reach the Isle quickly enough. Despite how the tattered sail doesn't move, the boat must have traveled quickly. Then again, you had no way of measuring distance. For all the you can see through the fog, the shore might be ten feet from you.

There to meet you is a blonde woman, who looks somewhat like your mother. She wears a red dress, and walks through the mists like she would know where to place her feet if she went blind.

"Morgana!" She calls. She holds out a hand and helps you from the boat. A tingle goes through your legs when your feet touch the grass. "Welcome, sister."

"Morgause." You say softly. You swallow. "Then this is the Isle of Bardsey?"

"Indeed. Oh sister, I have waited for you!" Morgause looks excited. Her eyes shine. "You will study under Nimueh, with me to help you. She is the highest of all the Enchantresses here, and her power is unequalled by any."

"Oh, really?" You aren't sure how to respond to this burning enthusiasm. You're just tired and damp and stiff, having ridden all day and then gone on a boat ride wherein your every muscle was taunt.

"Of course, you must be tired." Morgause waves a hand. "I'll show you to your chambers."

You follow her. The boat reverses, and you tell yourself there's no reason to feel trapped.

* * *

><p>The rooms are gorgeous. You have a bed with silk sheets, just as you had at home, and a window far above a grassy field. All of your things are there, and you decide to just accept the magic. No reason to point out that it would have been easier to just bring you with the damned trunks, and spare you the awful boat ride.<p>

Morgause leaves you to go to her own chambers, after instructing you to go to Nimueh's study in the morning. You nod and barely have time to strip from your dress before collapsing on the bed.

Your dreams are not at all pleasant. You dream of wartime, of fluttering banners and yelling and the pained groan of someone important, who just died. When your eyes snap open, the morning light is shining through the window, and you feel like you can't breathe.

You dress quickly, in an old blue gown that isn't enormously fancy. Having made yourself presentable you determinedly walk down corridors, and come to the realiztion that you have absolutely no idea where Nimueh's study _is._

That's rather a setback. There are no convenient servants to ask directions from either, or other…you suppose you're a student now. You drift through empty hallways, trying to stay where the torches look used. That's really the only indicator of where people often walk.

You've been alone for at least half an hour, just walking, so it your collision with a stack of books is utterly unexpected. You grunt-unwomanly, yes, but let's see any Princess be hit with a stack of books and not make some noise-and fall down.

"Are you okay? Sorry, wasn't expecting anyone to be around." The books have all fallen to the ground around you, and the voice is welcome. A man is crouched before me, his hand extended.

The first thing that strikes you is that his eyes are _blue_. As blue as the sea before the sunset back at Tintagel, as blue as the silk in your dress, as blue as the depths of the lake. That temporarily jolts your mind off track.

"Ah, yes, I'm fine." You nearly stutter. He grins at you, and your entire mind melts for just a moment, because it's almost blinding. He's not handsome like the princes you had paraded before you at Tintagel, but he has those _blue, blue_ eyes, and the way his face is lit up is more pleasant to look upon than anything you've seen.

"Oh, good." He looks relieved. You take the hand he extends to you, and he pulls you to your feet. "Sorry, but I was hauling these around and didn't think anyone would be wandering around this part of the castle."

He crouches and gathers the books together, then gets to his feet with a grunt. You smile slightly, just because he looks so funny. The books in his arms go higher than his forehead, and he needs to poke his head around them to look at you, which makes him go off balance and almost spill the lot of books _again_.

"Here." You say, half laughing, and take three off the top. He smiles at you. "Don't worry about it, I was actually hoping for someone to come along. Do you know where Nimueh's study is?"

"Yeah." He shifts the books. "I'll show you the way, it's easy to get turned around in this place."

That's certainly true. Tintagel was a box on a spit of land surrounded by water. This castle is full of twists and you bet there are secret passages. That's sort of intriguing, sort of terrifying.

"Thank you. What were you doing with all these books?"

"Oh, I'm delivering them to Mary Collins." Merlin shrugs. "She's an older woman" you want to laugh, because he sounds so _polite_ "and she's helping Sophia with a project."

"Oh." That's lost you. He notices your expression.

"Sorry, I should have guessed you were new here. They're both Enchantresses, Mary Collins is sheltering here since her son died in Camelot, and Sophia while her father does business in the mortal world."

"Are we not in the mortal world?" This was _not_ mentioned in Nimueh's letter.

"Well, no. We're sort of in a pocket in the other world-not really in Avalon, but outside of mortal time." He smiles sheepishly. "I didn't realize no one explained to you."

"No, they didn't." You say faintly. Then you pull yourself up. You are a daughter of Cornwall. You will not be cowed. "Thank you for telling me."

"My pleasure." From the way he smiles, it really is. And not pleasure like the people at banquets who live to tell others all the information they have that no one else knows, actual happiness to help you. "Here's Nimueh's study. If you need anything else, just call me."

"I will." You like talking to him. It's quite possible you'll find yourself a reason to find him, regardless of how much you actually need his help. "Wait, I haven't heard your name yet."

He smiles at you again. "I'm Merlin."

"My name is Morgana." You turn to the doors. They're rather large, and made of stone, carved into a design that reminds you of vines and rain. Merlin waves at you, and you push open the doors before the surge of courage that came from that wave can depart.

You walk in, and the first thing that you notice is that Nimueh is beautiful. Her hair is black as midnight and bound behind her head, leaving her lovely features bare. She's pale, with blue eyes like Merlin's but not nearly as deep, not nearly as beautiful. There's arrogance in those eyes.

"Princess Morgana." She's standing before a stone basin. Morgause is with her, both in bloodred dresses. Her head tilts as she scrutinizes you. "Was your journey taxing?"

"Not at all." You step fully into the room and close the door behind you. "Merely surprising."

Nimueh's lips curve up in a cold smile. "I'm glad. I have taught your sister for many years, and she has great skill. I hope you can match her."

"I shall try." You tip your head up and meet Nimueh's cold eyes. Your own are grey like the morning sky, and her smile widens.

"Oh, you are a fighter. Good. I don't need milksops." You raise your eyebrows. Nimueh beckons you to the basin. As you go into the room, you think that it's like a cave. There's a stone chair and another stone table. Stacks of books are lined against a wall, and an archway opens into the grassy meadow you see from your own window, but there is no ornamentation not already carved in the stones.

It's a grim place. Nonetheless, you go to your sister's side and watches Nimueh swirls the waters.

"What do you see?" She asks. You squint. 'Nothing' is probably not the answer she wants.

"Red." You finally say. Nimueh makes a pleased noise.

"Not a bad start. What is the red?" You stare. Beads of sweat stand out on your brow. It's difficult, whatever you're doing, and your senses strain. Something flickers within you. A hand smacks your arm. "Stop."

You gasp and touch the sleeve. There must be a red mark beneath it. "What?"

"You were trying to influence it, bring the events closer to the surface with magic. It would have hurt you." Nimueh says simply. You remember that warm flickering, the spot of warmth in your chest.

It felt good.

"Then what am I to do?" You respond. "I was accomplishing nothing by staring, and I wasn't even aware I was trying to change it!"

"I know. You need discipline. You need focus." Nimueh turns away. "I think we'll switch to another area. But first…" She whispers a spell, and the characters engraved round the basin hover in the air before you. "Copy these."

Morgause hands you paper. You write the characters in the flowing hand that took hours to learn, back in Tintagel. Morgause makes a pleased noise at your penmanship. Nimueh says nothing, but there is satisfaction in her eyes.

"Excellent. Identify that language. Now come with me." You and Morgause go with her, and you spend the afternoon with your fingers in the dirt, trying to get that warm feeling back in your chest. It refuses to come.

But the blood red poppies Nimueh calls from the ground are quite nice to look at, as are the little flowers that cover Morgause's thorny vines. You trudge back to your chambers with Morgause, feeling dirty and tired and like a failure.

"Don't worry." She says. Morgause touches your arm. "Nimueh is hard teacher, but she's fair, and you're doing well." You clutch the scrap of paper.

"Is it always like this?" Morgause shrugs.

"It varies. We do a lot of independent study. I'll have to show you to our library, but later." You sigh in relief. "There'll be a bath drawn for you. Go bathe."

You stagger into your chambers, and there is a bath drawn, full of steaming hot water. You undress and ease into it, feeling relief course through you. Gods, you adore a hot bath. Quite apart from needing to be cleaned off after all that time in the dirt, you have an odd aching in your bones that's never been there before.

* * *

><p>After another few days of lessons with Nimueh, wherein you finally realize that the red is <em>blood<em>, Morgause shows you the library. You like your sister, but the burning look in her eyes makes you vaguely uneasy, and the constant way of ordering you around she has can grate your nerves.

But she obviously cares for you, and that's nice. You haven't seen Merlin at all, and you can't crane your around corridors to try to get a glimpse of him whenever you spot a flash of what might be his brown coat. It would be undignified.

Back to the library. It's impressive. There are massive oak bookshelves, nearly groaning under the weight of the tomes. A few people sit on comfortable looking chairs-a girl holding a plain wooden staff, an old man, a man whose age you can't judge because of his scarred face, and _Merlin._

"Tell me, who is that?" You gesture covertly to Merlin. He's buried in a thick book, and doesn't notice you or Morgause.

"I believe he's one of Nimueh's aides." The structure here is simple. Nimueh rules uncontested, and most of the old men and women go about their business. There are other students, though not many, and you and Morgause are the only ones who study under Nimueh herself. There are visitors, sometimes those fleeing persecution, sometimes people who need help. And there are aides, people who just hang around and help out. "A peasant before he ended up here."

"Peasants have magic?" You hate how arrogant it sounds. But it's true that of the people here, Merlin is the only one who doesn't wear silks. Morgause laughs at you.

"Oh, yes, don't you remember the long treasured image of a witch in a hut, cackling over a fire?" Her gaze flicks over Merlin. "I know he cleans, abysmally. Also fetches and carries. Not enough talent to have a teacher."

Oh.

"Why?" Morgause eyes you. You smile the way being a princess has taught you to smile. Like nothing matters when everything does.

"He gave me directions. He was nice to me."

"He's certainly kind enough." Morgause says, her tone something between contempt and disdain. You don't think he deserves that tone, not with those eyes. Then it strikes you.

Morgause has no respect for kindness.

"Yes. Show me that book of runes." You turn your back on Merlin. He's quite clearly a nobody. You are obviously a Princess, and going to be an Enchantress. You don't see him look up from the book and then back down.

* * *

><p>Being an Enchantress means many things. One of them is, apparently, star searching. You don't fully understand what that means, but Nimueh gave you a star chart and told you not to sleep until it was filled out, and Morgause is gone from the Isle. She said something about business with mortals.<p>

So you have to navigate the field in the dark, trying to figure out a way to be able to both gaze up at the stars and write on the chart at the same time. It's uncomfortable, and you're cold despite your cloak.

"Morgana?" You start. It's just Merlin, smiling at you. He cocks his head. "Erm, what are you doing?"

"Star searching." You promptly reply. Then you sigh. "And failing."

"C'mon." Merlin's smile turns blinding. "I'll show you up to roofs, you get a much better view from there."

Roofs?

You follow Merlin, and he helps you climb up to a surprisingly comfortable gable. Well, actually he shows you where it is and you climb up then catch him before he can plummet to his death. Merlin is rather clumsy.

But you're both on your backs staring up at the stars without any more injury than a banged elbow belonging to Merlin. The view of the skies here is magnificent. Merlin grins at you across the roof, and your answering smile is natural.

"That up there is Regulus." He points into the sky. You follow the line of his finger, and begin filling in dots on the map. Merlin is a startling adept teacher, and between the two of you, the assignment is finished easily.

You really don't want to leave the rooftop. It's like being in another world, where you and Merlin are the only people in the entire world. Merlin begins telling you about other constellations. You listen with half your mind, and with other half you study the way moonlight illuminates his cheekbones.

"What?" You ask, when he stops talking to just look at you. "Don't tell me that I've smudged ink over my cheeks."

"No. Just…I like being here with you." You like it too. You like more than you could ever admit. So you push yourself up to your elbows and prepare to leave. Merlin catches your elbow. "Wait. I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for. It's just that I have to show this to Nimueh in the morning, and I should sleep…" You trail off. Merlin looks so sad. "Oh, stop looking like a puppy."

"You think I look like a puppy?" Merlin sounds like he isn't sure whether to be amused or offended. You laugh.

"Not really. More like a…" You study him with mock concentration. Merlin pooches out a lip and makes his eyes bigger. It breaks your poker face. You have to laugh. "Stop it!"

"Stop what?" He lisps. You laugh harder. He reaches out and pulls you closer. "Here, I don't want you falling off the roof. Morgause would murder me."

"I'm sure." You nestle into his chest before you realize you're doing it. At that point, you reason that it would be more awkward to pull away than just stay there, and besides. You're comfortable with Merlin's arm wrapped around you. "She can be aggressive."

"By which you mean terrifying?" There's too much teasing in Merlin's voice him to actually be afraid of your sister. The two of you talk until morning light hits the roof. Then you slip away, taking the chart to Nimueh, and Merlin goes off to do whatever he does all day.

* * *

><p>Nimueh raises an eyebrow, but says the charts are perfect. You're pleased. Merlin may have helped you, but you did a lot of that work yourself, and everything you weren't sure of he's taught you.<p>

"Today, we're going to work with flame." Your heart sinks. Nimueh murmurs a few words and suddenly she's holding a handful of flames. You breathe deeply and prepare yourself for a painful lesson.

It's even worse than you imagined. You end up sticking your hand into fires, and giving yourself blisters, and finally Nimueh gives up in disgust. She sends you to your chambers, and it takes all your royal blood to keep you from running from the room.

Instead, you walk with a measured pace, don't give away that your hands are screaming, and keep the lofty expression on your face. You don't even whimper until the door to your chambers is shut, then you fling yourself onto your bed, levitate the pitcher with a word, and pour water all over your hands.

The door is pushed open. You look up, and say sharply "Do you not understand the purpose of knocking?"

"I choose to ignore such proprieties. It's how I express my rebellious side." You snicker despite the pain in your hands. Merlin isn't offended at all by you snapping at him. He kicks the door closed and frowns.

"What happened to you?" You shrug. Merlin is holding two goblets.

"Nothing much. Just a lesson in fire." Merlin winces and puts the goblets on the table. He crosses the room and bends over your hands, frowning. You try to pull back. "Really, I'm fine."

After all, it is not in your nature to admit pain. By the look on Merlin's face, he sees right through you.

"Nimueh has _got_ to find new teaching methods." He grumbles. Merlin covers your hands with his. "Do you mind if I help?"

"Just don't explode my hands." You once accidentally did that, except to a glass ball. Merlin smiles at you. It's not the blinding smile. It's a small, calm, secret smile.

"I promise I won't." He folds both his hands around yours. You frown. His brow crinkles, then smoothes out. Then you fight the urge to jump, because Merlin's eyes turn an impossibly vivid shade of gold, and the hands around yours are warm. You blink down at them, caught off guard. Your hands don't hurt at _all_.

"There." Merlin sounds satisfied. His eyes go back to beautiful blue, and he takes his hands off yours. There are no blisters on your hands. You hold them up, staring at skin that is flawless once again.

"How did you do that?" He picks up the goblets and shrugs.

"Healing magic. I'm the local physician." You have to smile. Of all the people in this place, Merlin is the only one kind enough to be any kind of healer. You flex your fingers, noting how good your hands feel.

"Thank you." Merlin is absurdly nice. And you shouldn't find that wonderful, because nice people don't get ahead. That's been drilled into you by Nimueh and Morgause every day. "What were you doing up here, anyway?"

"I brought you some mulled mead." Merlin grins and holds out a goblet. You take it and sip from it. The beverage is very good.

"You aren't trying to get me drunk, are you?" You ask. You're kidding, but it's funny to see the panic flash over Merlin's face.

"No! No, of course not, I just thought that you'd be tired and I know this is good and I've heard you have nightmares, and I thought it might help!" He sputters out. You're smiling at the expression on his face, then his words sink in.

"Who told you about my nightmares?" You ask sharply. Merlin picks up his own goblet and drinks from it.

"Nimueh." Merlin shrugs. "But it's common knowledge."

"It _is?_" He winces.

"You didn't know?" No, you did not. You had that nice little illusion that your troubles were private, and you were free to deal with them in peace! You turn away, draining the goblet. "Morgana, the Isle is isolated, people end up knowing everything about each other-"

"Shut up." You say quietly. Merlin is silent. "Leave me."

"No." You look up at him, startled. "Morgana, I'm sorry to intrude on what may be private, but Nimueh said you needed help. I'm offering it."

"I don't want the help of an exalted servant! Get out!" At that, he leaves. You sit back against the bedcovers drinking mead mulishly. Merlin left his goblet behind, and while it didn't have much, it's enough for you to occupy a goodly amount of time.

How dare he presume to…to help you. What a crime. How offensive.

You sigh and tip the last drop of mead into your mouth. You feel like an ass. But Merlin will probably not mind. Merlin doesn't have an enormous amount of pride. Which is good, because you seem to have vast reserves of it, more than enough to compensate.

The mead is strong stuff. You fall asleep against the headboard in your clothes, and the nightmares come up with a vengeance.

This one is bad. There's Nimueh, all the cruelty she harbors written on her face, and she waves a hand. There's Merlin, blood dribbling from his lips. His blue eyes (still so beautiful) are wide and afraid.

* * *

><p>"Dare I ask?" You awake to Morgause. Her arms are folded, and the stern look on her face makes you think of your father. You should write to him sometime. Her gaze slowly travels your mussed hair, the gown you still wear, your bleary eyes.<p>

Morgause's eyes settle on the _two_ empty goblets. You blush.

"Who was here?" A denial is on the tip of your tongue. But Morgause is not at all stupid. You sigh and hope for the best.

"Just Merlin." In your head, you apologize to Merlin for the "just". Morgause's face darkens. "He's my friend."

"That means nothing." Morgause mutters. You lean over to touch her hand.

"Morgause, relax. Merlin came over to check on me. We drank some mead. He left. I was lazy. That's _it._" Morgause frowns and pushes a lock of hair from your face. She looks concerned.

"I know, but Morgana…well, I worry for you. You sometimes seem on the verge of doing something exceedingly foolish." Your mouth opens and closes. The real possibility of sleeping with Merlin hasn't crossed your mind until now.

But there's no denying it's something you would like to do. You may be an untouched virgin, and obligated to stay that way until your father finds a man who'll take an enchantress as a wife and is up to your standards, but you know what goes on in a marriage bed.

You briefly entertain the thought of being married to Merlin. You can see him and his sweet smile, fumbling around with a tray of food. Playing with a dark haired child. His bare back illuminated by sunshine streaming through a window, as he sleeps beside you.

Nothing but an idle fantasy. You look at Morgause like a Princess, and summon cold indifference to your voice. It's a talent that you've used to get rid of the more bumbling princes.

"I am the daughter of King Gorlois of Cornwall." That's all that needs saying. Morgause nods. You have not forgotten who you are. Who you are is not a woman free to drink in your chambers with a man who cleans floors.

Let alone spend nights alone with him.

**A/N: I originally thought this would be a 3 shot, then it…morphed. Lisanor was the name of Arthur and Guinevere's daughter (a person who only exists in a few legends), and since Queen Igraine was Morgana's mother in original legend, I just chose her name cuz it was pretty. The Isle is Bardsey is one of the many places Arthur might have been laid to rest. Again, grabbed the name only because I liked it. Review please!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Huge thanks to all reviewers! **

Then comes a time when you do not see Merlin. Morgause is back, with a pleased smirk on her face. When you ask her why, she pulls you into her chambers before answering. Morgause's chambers are much like yours-luxurious-but all in shades of red that make the air feel heavy.

Her eyes glitter as she tells you what she's been doing.

"There is a man, named Cenred. My troth was given to him by our Father when I was born, and I have just now gone to meet him." She tosses her head and laughs. "And he is _mine._"

"You bedded him?" You're dying to comment on her hypocrisy.

"No, of course not." Morgause shakes her head as if that's absurd. "I've done everything but that. Men are weak, and this one is devoted solely to pleasing me. I cannot tell you about the plans, but Morgana, Albion is going to be great."

"I was under the impression it already was." The little you'd seen of it, anyway. Your whole life can be divided between Tintagel and the Isle, and neither of them are much connected to Albion.

"Yes, but so few dare use magic! With Cenred's help…" She sighs. "Sister, I wish I could tell you more. Know that great things are afoot."

You would have a greater appreciation of "great things" if they weren't delivered as cryptic comments. Maybe Morgause is trying to point out that your dreams are not the only future.

You hope she's right. In your dreams you see hundreds of tiny drops of red spray into the air, then come down on an upraised face like rain. You see Mary Collins with a knife, singing, and a room of people covered in spider webs.

That's a particularly terrifying dream, because you _know_ Mary Collins. She is old and bitter and hates Camelot, like most practitioners, but she's slyer than the common woman. You've seen the way her eyes dart about in their sockets, and adjusted your posture to be straight upright, fearless. She always hurries along then, and your mind eases, but you don't _hate_ her.

And in the second part of the dream, guards overwhelm her and murder her on the spot. You wake up screaming. You rush to her the morning after, grab her hand and whisper to her that she should not go to Camelot.

"I know that, highness." She rips her arm away and glares. You step back, and she totters away, muttering. You are left with a deep sense of foreboding, and the knowledge that you have no friend in that witch.

The lessons with Nimueh come easier. You're beginning to like the woman. She may be cruel, and she may have no hesitation about hitting you when you make foolish mistakes, but you can acknowledge how fair she is. And she praises you when you finally see into the basin and realize that the blood is tiny men, who march across the land in armies.

You make progress. One day, you make pure white roses sprout from the ground and bloom. Nimueh looks at them for a long time, and you wonder what she's thinking.

"They're exquisite." Is her final comment. Morgause smiles at you from her shoulder. "I've not seen like them for a long time."

"Thank you." You fold your hands in front of you. You haven't seen Merlin in over a week. You miss him. You want to give him the flowers, and think that his praise would be warmer than Nimueh's. You think maybe he would give you flowers in return, and you would love them.

You think that you need to stop these thoughts, because they are pointless. You're thinking that as you leave Nimueh's study, your head down because your eyes hurt after all that straining into the basin, when you bump into him.

Literally. And he trips, and you have to grab his arm to keep him from falling on his arse, and he grins at you at he gets his feet under him. Your eyes don't hurt so much.

"Thanks." You haven't released his arm yet, and Merlin isn't objecting to your touch at all. "I think we're even in the falling over because of each other scales now."

"I should find a spell for your clumsiness." You respond. Morgause and Nimueh are still in the study, you can talk to him freely. He smiles at you.

"I don't mind falling." You blush. He does too. "Have a good lesson?"

"Ah…" You know that there's going to be a headache in store for you tonight, and it's going to make your nightmares worse. "It was regular. I'm beginning to hate that basin."

He rolls his eyes. "Gods, I know. Don't you just want to smash it sometimes?"

"_Yes._" You say fervently. He laughs. You laugh with him. "What are you doing around here, anyway? Usually you're off cleaning floors."

"Excavating!" Merlin protests. "I'm looking at other parts of the castle! And possibly cleaning off dust as I go along."

"Pardon me." You say gravely. "You're _dusting_, my mistake." He lightly shoves you.

"Bah. But to answer your question, I wanted to talk to Nimueh. Is she free?" You shrug.

"Morgause is in there talking to her." Merlin frowns. "Was it important?"

"It was about her pet Afanc." You raise an eyebrow.

"Gesundheit."

"No, it's a water creature. It's pretty deadly, and I wanted to talk to her about what she's going to use it for." For a second, you're blown away by his honesty. Then by the fact that Nimueh has a deadly water creature.

"What's she going to do with it?" Merlin shrugs.

"That's what I wanted to ask. It brings plagues. I don't like plagues." His eyes darken. You think it's an extremely attractive look, though a troubling one. You touch his arm, and his eyes go back to their previous shine.

"Good luck." Merlin grins at you.

"Thanks. Are you busy later?" You are not. You think of Morgause and her warnings, and your royal blood, and how kings and princes were lining up to marry you. Then you think of peaceful talk and laughter, and Merlin's smile.

"I'm free. Do you want to maybe go outside the walls, and have something to eat?" There's a grassy verge between the castle walls and the lake, and no windows open onto the lakeside. You'd be unobserved.

"I'd love to." The door opens, and Morgause steps out. Her eyes flit from you, to Merlin, to you. Her mouth twists. Merlin smiles at her. "Is Nimueh busy?"

"No." Nimueh appears in the doorway. "Come in Merlin."

He goes inside, shooting you one last smile over his shoulder. The door closes, and Morgause glares at you. You cross your arms. "Morgause, we were having a conversation. Relax."

"I know." Her scowl melts. "Believe me, that was only for his benefit. I know full well that you're smarter. But that boy's a fool."

You're not sure that just a glare from Morgause will cow Merlin. Maybe it is only stupidity, but you've never seen him looking genuinely afraid. Just cheerful.

"Obviously." You toss your head. "How is Cenred, these days?"

"Desperate to please me." Morgause smirks. The two of you drift away to speak about Morgause's twisted romance. You find it fascinating. In your parent's marriage, your mother was half your father's age and the only time you can think of that she spoke against a decision of his was when he suggested marrying you to Arthur of Camelot.

In Morgause's world, she teases her future husband and he gives in to her every demand. She gleefully tells you about how she's changed dates, showed up late to events, refused to dance with him until he performed little tasks for her.

Later, when you're with Merlin, you think that this isn't like either of those relationships. Merlin and you laugh together and talk about magic, and you learn that the basin thing is called "scrying", and it's easier to do it with water than a mirror. He says you can do something like that with fire, and is offering to show you when you put up a hand to silence him.

"Is that Mary Collins?" Merlin twists around. You're both sitting on the grass, and the boat is within sight. A hunched figure is climbing in.

"I think it is." Merlin begins to get to his feet. "I'll go help her into the boat, she looks like she's having trouble."

"Merlin!" You pull him back down. "What do you think she's doing? I've never seen Mary Collins leave."

"I dunno." Merlin obviously doesn't have a suspicious mind. "It's not like anyone is forcing her to stay here. Maybe she found what she was looking for."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone here is looking for something. It's what makes the boat move." As he speaks, Mary settles herself. The boat glides over the lake, causing not a ripple. You shiver. As always, the glass surface of the lake disturbs you.

"What were you looking for?" You ask. Merlin shrugs.

"A place to be normal." You laugh.

"I'm not sure if that's in the cards for you Merlin." He grins at you, not at all offended.

"Fine. Just a place for myself in the world then." This is not at all a place in the world. This is a place beyond the real world, where with a little discretion you can sit alone with a nobody. In sudden appreciation for that you lean against him, and Merlin wraps an arm around you. "What about you?"

"I don't know." Your head fits perfectly against Merlin's shoulder. You close your eyes and sigh.

"Fair enough." Merlin begins to absently stroke your hair. It's a very pleasing sensation.

Right now, you can't think of anything you could possibly want, except to be here forever.

* * *

><p>When Morgause comes to your chambers, you think that she's found out. Though you're only really friends with Merlin, she's found out that you<em> really really<em> like him, and she's furious.

Her face is like stone. She takes a deep breath. You wait for the axe to fall.

"Our father has died." The world spins around you. "Mother too."

"W-what?" You back up and fall onto the bed. You have the grab the headboard to steady yourself. Morgause follows you and sits next to you, holding your hand.

"In the war with King Alined." You didn't know there was a war going on. "He was on the front lines, and he was shot with arrows. Mother fell ill during winter, and the news of father's death was too much for her." Morgause holds out a letter.

You take it, mind whirling. Father is dead. How can father be dead? You could believe him going to the front lines, the King of Cornwall would never let his troops fight alone, but dying there? Where were the physicians? Where were the troops who should have flung themselves into the arrow's path?

The letter is addressed to the daughters of Cornwall. It describes now nobly Gorlois fought at that final battle, and how your mother died. It says firmly that there was no proof of sorcery.

"Oh, Morgana." Morgause embraces you. You cling to her, shaking.

How could you have not known that there was way? How could your father have been in such danger without you, a trained warrior, by his side? You hadn't written to him in weeks, hadn't seen him since the day you left home. You were angry at him then. You never got to say a proper goodbye.

"W-what will we do?" Morgause isn't nearly so affected as you are. Or else she's hiding her grief. You remember that she left home when you were too little to remember her and hasn't been back since then.

"Talk to Nimueh. She's got all of Father's documents." You walk down the halls after Morgause like one in a trance. The clack of both your heels on the stone floor reaches your ears and echoes.

Nimueh looks at you sadly when you reach the study.

"I'm sorry, child." There's genuine sympathy in her eyes. "I lost my family as well."

"What happens?" You ask. Somehow your voice is hoarse. You know you aren't old enough to rule Cornwall, though it is a small kingdom. Nimueh waves a hand, and a gust of wind blows several papers into her hands.

"Your father long ago made provisions for you if he and your mother should die. You'll go to Camelot, to be the ward of Uther Pendragon." You jerk your head up to stare at her, eyes wide. It's horribly bad taste to mock one whose parents are dead.

"_What_?" Nimueh holds up a hand.

"You knew they were old friends. Uther Pendragon knows not that you have magic. He isn't even aware that Morgause lives." Nimueh riffles through them until one is on top, one with gilt edges and your father's signature alongside another scrawl. "Besides, his son is dead."

"_What?"_ It's never before struck you how isolated from the outside world you are.

"Assassinated by a witch." Morgause says.

"Then he'll only be more paranoid about magic! I can't…" You trail off. Nimueh is frowning at you, the way she frowns when she's about to give you a smack on the wrist.

You barely notice the way her eyes go to Morgause before her face smoothes out. Like she's handing off the situation to someone else.

"Morgana." Morgause gently wraps an arm around your shoulder. "This was father's wish. Surely you can let him have his way now, trust that he knew what was best."

You shudder, and think of Father's warm green eyes, his strong hands as he helped you up after your first disastrous swordplay lesson, of how he never ever made you go back to your room once you'd had a nightmare. You think of how you left angry at him.

It doesn't change that you are afraid of Camelot.

But you are now more than ever a daughter of Cornwall. You'll make him proud, go to Camelot and shine there. You straighten your shoulders and lift your chin. Above all, you will not admit your fear to these two.

"Fine. When must I depart?" Nimueh and Morgause exchange looks.

"Ride out tomorrow. An escort from Camelot will meet you at Tintagel."

You find in your rooms that everything has been packed. You sit on your bed and try to become numb. When you finally get to sleep, you dream about frantically clawing at an enormous wooden door, banging your fists against it until they bleed. You wake up when, the in the dream, you collapse against the door sobbing.

In your finest dress and beautiful silver jewelry, you go down to the boat. Nimueh and Morgause are both waiting for you there. Morgause smiles when she sees you.

"You look like a Princess." She says. You smile faintly.

"Morgana!" _Merlin._ You whirl around as he comes stumbling down the castle stairs, tripping once and ripping the knee of his pants on a stone. But he doesn't knock into you, that's a plus. He stops just in front of you, panting. "I just heard, I'm so sorry."

"Thank you." You whisper. Outside of your vision Nimueh steps back with a sad smile, and Morgause tightens her mouth. "You're a good friend."

"I try." He smiles at you. "You're very brave."

That gives you enough courage to lift your chin and smile back. "I'll miss you."

"You shouldn't be alone in Camelot." Merlin says firmly. He steps forward and hugs you. You rest your head against his chest for a moment, breathing in deeply and letting his arms comfort you.

"I'm afraid." You whisper to him. Merlin you can trust with this. You're confident he won't judge you, or hit you, or speak to you sharply.

"You're more than a match for anyone Camelot can throw at you." Merlin murmurs back. "And I'm going to find a way to help you."

You doubt that he can, but the fact that he'll try warms your heart. You step away from him then, and Morgause closes in. She grabs your wrist and shoots Merlin an irate look. He responds with a grin.

"Just saying goodbye." He stands next to Nimueh and watches as you step into the boat with Morgause. Your sister is going to come with you to Tintagel, thank heavens. This is a journey you would hate to make alone.

The boats glides away, and you fail to fight back tears.

* * *

><p>Returning to Tintagel is strange. It's not like coming home at all. The crashing sea is familiar, and comforting after the silent lake, but the boxy castle is tiny to you, and your rooms have too many memories.<p>

You stay long enough to visit the graves of your parents. You kneel before your father's, blinking back tears. It's a modest grey headstone, with his name engraved on it in flowing script. Beneath it are the words "A good King, a good Father, and a Loving Husband."

Your mother's next to his, smaller and made of white marble. Looking at the dates you realize that your mother was about your age when she married your father and gave birth to Morgause. You came later, when she was in her twenties. By then your father was well into his later fifties. He was over seventy when he died.

It's funny, how he never seemed so old to you. White haired, yes, but strong. And your mother didn't look young. You just remember that she was small.

You have an inheritance from each. Your father left you his sword, a beautiful broadsword with emeralds in the hilt and the word "courage" written on the blade. You will use this with pride.

Queen Lisanor left you a few things. A beautiful red dress, that leaves the shoulders bare and emphasizes your curves. You have trouble picturing her in it. There's also a pendant, one she bequeathed especially to you. The rest of her jewelry will be divided between you and Morgause, but this was for you. It's a beautifully carved dragon on a chain, that resembles the Pendragon Crest.

Maybe she knew where you would be going. You have Morgause clasp the chain around your neck, and like the way it settles on your collarbone. After this all that you have to do is wander around the castle and wait for your escort to come.

The most interesting thing that happens in this time is you finding a portrait of your mother. It was drawn before you were born, and she is a beautiful young girl, with golden locks that tumble around her shoulders. They're bare, she's wearing the same dress she gave you, and her light blue eyes shine. She's not a large woman, the dress's neckline comes up a bit farther on her chest than on yours. Her delicate features are smooth, and do not have the sadness hers did in life.

You can scarcely believe it's her. Morgause sees it and draws her fingers over the canvas, eyes sad. She says quietly that she had almost forgotten how beautiful her mother was. She and you hug, and you feel some moisture some on your shoulder.

The escort from Camelot arrives not a day later. Morgause watches from a window as you mount the beautiful white palfrey-somehow he made it back from the forest-and move away. Your train of baggage stretches behind. The men in red livery with the golden dragon surround you, and you rather want to point out that there _is_ a sword in your saddle, you _do_ know how to defend yourself.

That won't do anything. You're a Princess again, and more importantly you're King Uther's ward. Men scuttle around you, setting up a luxurious tent every night and jumping at your each command.

If this how the King's ward is treated, the one who hasn't even made it to Camelot, you have to wonder at what the late Prince Arthur was like. You do however, note that the men are slightly surprised at how you ride all day and don't complain.

Your father didn't raise a whiner.

Since you can ride harder than half these soldiers, the journey to Camelot takes only a week. You rein in your horse to look up at the city before entering. You want to appreciate this last glimpse from the outside.

It's enormous. All made of white stone and shockingly high battlements, grand and powerful and awe inspiring. You cannot imagine this place being taken by any mortal men. It's grand, and probably meant to intimidate people.

It's worked. You can hardly believe that this is the same city where so many of your people have burned. It's too beautiful. This was a place that was made to be a sanctuary and learning and art.

After one look, you kick your horse back into a trot and enter the city.

It's very different on the inside. It's not as majestic here, where there are poor scuttling through the street and beggars in rags. Some stare at you, openmouthed. You smile at them.

How interesting. The people are shocked that you acknowledge them so. You wave to a few, and toss coins to all the beggars. You can't bear the thought of not throwing coins to them, not while you wear a dress that's probably worth more than their year's earnings.

There are also many, many, guards.

You have to pass the pyre before you can enter the citadel. You hold your head high as you go past the stand where there is not only a block for people to be beheaded, but a special platform for burnings and a gallows. There's even a well, one that looks quite big enough to drown someone in.

With such options, how does King Uther choose which form of death the sorcerers should be given?

Once you get to the citadel, things are different. The polished white stone is back. The number of guards has doubled. There are many servants. One to take your horse, one to kneel on the ground for the privilege of helping you dismount, a hundred to grab your baggage and take haul the trunks to your chambers, wherever they are.

You ignore the servant and dismount on your own. No need to instantly become chattel.

There are yet more guards around the door to the throne room. You take a deep breath before they open the doors, and prepare to meet your father's old friend, the man who campaigned with him when your father was in his prime and Uther was a younger man, the man who executes children.

The doors open. The King is not as impressive as your father. He's more heavily ornamented than Gorlois typically was, and looks older despite his relative youth.

"Lady Morgana." Lady, you notice. Not Princess. So, your status decreases as his ward.

"Your highness." You curtsy before him. Uther bends over and kisses your hand. Then he steps back and scrutinizes you. "I thank you for taking me in."

"The deaths of Gorlois and Lisanor were tragic." He responds. His eyes slowly travel over you. To your surprise, they linger on your face rather than your breasts. "It is my honor to take you into my court."

"Again, I can only say thank you. You have a beautiful country." That's not at all a lie. Riding through Camelot, you saw deep green forests and lush meadows and a country that by all rights should be more prosperous than it is.

"That is not my doing." You study your new guardian. His eyes are a light grey very much like your own, and they are dead. Utterly, completely, lifeless, except for the glimmer of pride when you compliment Camelot. "The land is it's own, all I can do it keep filth from it."

"Oh?" You say politely. His eyes go from lifeless to full of hate.

"Sorcery. It is the plague that befouls Albion, and I daily fight against it." You fight the urge to recoil. Uther has turned from someone you think you might pity to someone who would burn you at the stake. Or hang you. Or maybe he would drown you, Uther is a man with options.

"I…" You must not be caught. You must never let this man know who you truly are. You must have been mad to let Morgause talk you into coming here. "You are very courageous, to fight such a deadly foe."

You said the right thing. Uther doesn't smile, but approval lightens the hate.

"I see that Gorlois raised you well. But go, you must be exhausted. Rest before the banquet." You are relieved. King Uther turns away, and you leave to go to your rooms. They're far from the throne room. This castle is enormous, with even more strange corridors than the Isle.

Your rooms are worth the wait. They're large and come with a beautiful canopied bed, a screen more ornate than half the dresses you own, and a simply gorgeous mirror. Camelot is wealthy indeed.

There is also a girl in your rooms.

"Ah, may I help you?" You ask her, shutting the door. She's in an obviously homespun yellow dress, and looks nervous.

"Oh no my Lady, although I'm sure that you could, what with being a Lady and the King's ward, but that's not important, I'm actually here to help you however I can…" She blushes. "I'm Guinevere."

"Oh." You're going to guess that she's either your maid, or your Lady in waiting. You ask her which. She blushes.

"I'm not a Lady at all, because my father's a blacksmith, which though it's a very nice job isn't actually nobility at all and I was assigned your room because usually I help with the guests who come but they don't actually visit so often since the Prince died…" You laugh. You've never met someone who babbles this way.

"Well then, I'm happy to meet you. Please Guinevere, call me Morgana." She smiles

"Call me Gwen please my Lady Morgana." You like that. Gwen is a hell of a lot easier to get from your mouth than Guinevere, and it's far more pleasant sounding.

"I will, Gwen. Now please, help me get the ties on this dress." She does, adeptly, all the while chattering about the daily events of Camelot. You'll have to find out from her what to avoid doing to not be caught as an enchantress.

And she's kind. You can tell that in a heartbeat. It will be nice, to have the one who cares for you be kind.

Eventually though, you dismiss her, and sit down on your bed.

You are in Camelot now. You are in danger every moment here, and no matter how kind your maid is, Gwen will be duty bound to report any suspicion of magic. That includes prophetic nightmares.

* * *

><p>Before the feast, there's a knock at your door. You open it, and an old man stands in the entrance. He smiles at you in a grandfatherly way.<p>

"My greetings, Lady Morgana. I'm Gaius, the court physician." He bows. Your response is a small curtsy. You stand aside to let him in-if the guards outside your door don't object, you see no reason to.

Besides, he is an old man. You're hardly going to compromise your honor with him.

"Good afternoon." You say. "I assure you though, I'm not ailing."

"Good!" He comes into the room and drops a bag on your table. Gaius talks as he rummages through it. "I hate walking up these steps. I've got an apprentice coming, but he's not going to be here for at least a week, and if you were ill I'd need to climb up and down constantly."

"I shall do my best to remain in good health." There's a bit of amusement in your tone. Gaius isn't particularly intimidated by your status. You think that you're going to end up treasuring the people like that.

"Yes, and to keep you in health I've got get a list…" he finally yanks a scroll and a quill from his bag. "Aha! Do you have any allergies?"

"No." He scribbles down a couple words, holding the paper close to his eyes. You decide not to tell him that he's got an ink stain on his nose, likely from doing just that.

"Any existing conditions, wounds, things I should know?" Inspiration strikes.

"There's one thing." You twist your hands. "I have nightmares often. I hate to bother you about such a trivial thing, but they often woke me in Tintagel, and should something happen to me that puts me into your care, I should hate for them to be an awful surprise."

"Nightmares?" He sounds interested. "How bad?"

It's better to be completely honest here. If you come clean about the nightmares, it's less likely anyone will be suspicious about them.

"I sometimes wake myself screaming." That happens more often than not. Gaius writes frantically. You think that this apprentice had best get to Camelot soon, or the poor man is going to end up blinding himself with ink.

"I'll prescribe you a draught." You feel a bit of hope. Gaius must be a good physician, if he works in Camelot. Uther could have anyone in the world, after all. If Gaius can end your night terrors, you will make sure that he can go about with a gold ring on every finger.

"Thank you." You say. Gaius bows.

"If you have any ailments, my door is always open. Truly, feel free to walk down the stairs yourself." You laugh. He bows and leaves.

Camelot has some kindness at it's heart then. Obviously, it doesn't do much to the canker that is Uther Pendragon's hatred, but it may make living here bearable. Despite that you'll daily lie to these kind people.

Gwen comes in, and it's time to dress for the banquet-nothing too bright, it's at least a week until you can wear bright colors without disrespecting your parents. You are seized with a brief fit of longing for Merlin as Gwen ties your dark blue gown tight at the waist, because the only person you can think of that you would like to appreciate your figure is Merlin.

* * *

><p>The banquet is an awful affair. Uther summoned no musicians to play, nor do jesters dance among you. Despite this the feast goes on a startling amount of time. This is a gluttonous court. You do not eat much.<p>

The way Uther flinches away the empty seat on his left is too disturbing. You didn't expect the bane of your people to be human, and silently mourning his deceased son. That son was his only son, the son his wife died giving birth to. Who will rule this kingdom when he dies now, who will defend his lands?

Losing that boy must have broken Uther's heart.

Still, he would kill you in an instant if he knew some of the most fundamental parts of your existence. You make conversation, and sometimes there's that glimmer of approval. Gwen stands on the sidelines and fills your cup. Gaius stands on the sidelines as well, eying the knights who drink cup after cup of wine.

In their defense, the wine is excellent. You sip lightly.

This is the most uncomfortable banquet you've ever been at. It's worse than when you had to sit at King Lot's side and _know_ that he was dying to paw at your waist, and that he was looking down your dress whenever you leaned near him. To his credit, Uther doesn't look at you like that once.

All the same, you flee the hall as soon as you can politely do so. Once you're in bed and undressed, and Gwen has left, you stare out your window at Camelot and wonder what Merlin is doing.

Probably sleeping. You lie down and close your eyes, reminding yourself that you have to be alert tomorrow to keep up the façade. You pray that Gaius's draught works.

That night you dream of arguments, Nimueh's lips parted in anger, and a man drowning.

**A/N: That's right, I made Arthur die. I can't write Mergana with Arthur in existence, so he's dead. Fear the power of the author! As always, reviews bring faster updates :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: As per usual, big thanks to the reviewers! And for those who wondered-I can't write Arthur in a Mergana story because Merthur is my OTP, and I find writing Arthur so he isn't with Merlin or wanting to be impossible, and since the focus of this is Merlin and Morgana…it gives me headaches. So he must DIE. **

**Disclaimer: Nah, I don't own Merlin. I just want to huggle him. **

Life in Camelot is strange.

Sometimes, you enjoy it. The food is far better than it was at the Isle, and there's greater variety than in Tintagel. Gwen is a good maid, always eager to please. You love the way she puts flowers in your chambers.

Uther Pendragon seems to like you. He makes conversation with you, and there are times you almost respect him. More than that, there are moments when you pity him. Uther Pendragon walks as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

But there are moments you hate him. You've only been in Camelot two weeks when you first witness an execution. The man is elderly, and he gets on his knees before Uther, pleading. He says that he only wanted to help his son get a child on his wife.

You feel a stab of sympathy, from where you sit. Uther gave you a smaller chair by his enormous throne, and you're often seated there while he conducts business. Now Uther stands above the man, and his eyes harbor hatred.

"Then you are a fool." The man cries out as Uther gestures to a guard. "Throw him in the dungeons, I want him hanged at dawn."

Nausea rises in you as the brawny guards haul the hysterical old man to his feet and drag him away. You can see yourself there, the meaty hands of the guards wrapped around her waist, Uther turning away as he does now, with cold satisfaction in his gaze.

"Morgana, I want you by my side at the execution." You can barely restrain horror. He wants you to watch as one of your own people dies. As one of your own people dies at the hand of the man who is now your guardian.

"My lord…" His eyes narrow. You realize that you can ill afford to make him suspect you of any sympathy at all. "I have never witnessed an execution before."

"Yes, Gorlois was always softhearted."

"He was a merciful King." You counter, sharply. You may be bound to his will, but Uther Pendragon will _not_ act as if your father was anything but a great king. You tip your chin up and meet his eyes defiantly.

They soften. "I do not argue that."

Uther must have been at least twenty years younger than your father when they were friends. Perhaps your father mentored him, help him learn some of the ways of Kingship. But you rather doubt that, because your father was a just man and Uther gave the order for a man who did no harm to be hanged.

"I am glad. He used to tell me stories about you, when I was a little girl." Uther looks surprised. You smile at him, and pray that this distracts from any horror you cannot hide. "He said you were a great swordsman."

"So was he." Uther says gruffly. "A very honorable man."

"He taught me swordplay." You comment. If Uther's face is anything to go by, he's favorable to you now. "I would love the chance to test myself against your knights."

"You will have it. After the execution." You nod.

The next day, you dress in a deep purple gown and stand at Uther's side above the platform. The people of Camelot must have morbid taste-there's a horde of people, all staring with hungry eyes at the old man on the gallows.

You barely contained a shudder of revulsion when you see that there are children in the mob. Little ones perched on their father's shoulders, some jumping up and down to see over adults, and a few lucky kids at the front of the crowd.

The man has to be hauled to the gallows. He's stopped begging for mercy, now he just hangs limp in the arms of the guards as they slip a noose around his neck. His white hair hangs over his face.

You turn your head away when they kick the boards from under his feet. You squeeze your eyes tightly closed and try not to hear the gurgling noise as the noose tightens round his neck. You crack open your eyes to watch his feet kick wildly.

Uther turns to look at you. You're thankful that you cracked your eyes open.

"He deserved this." Uther's voice is loud enough for every child in the street to hear. "Those who practice magic are evil, and he should not have tampered in such forces."

_What did magic ever do to you? _You desperately want to ask. But though Uther is clearly satisfied that another sorcerer has died, he's not in an indulgent mood. You lift your chin and train your eyes on the old man, trying to not see him while appearing to observe his dying convulsions.

He doesn't die until the sun is low in the sky. The old man was skinny, his weight must have not been enough to strangle him quickly. Uther allows you to leave when the guards are cutting his body down to be burned.

You go to your chambers. You let Gwen undress you and path your shoulder and whisper that she's sorry you had to stand up there for so long. You close your eyes.

"It's awful." You murmur. Gwen makes a noise of agreement, but no further comment. She's not a fool.

"Morgana." She takes your hands. "Be careful. I know you were not raised here, but since Prince Arthur's death, the King is more paranoid than ever. The weeks after he died…" Gwen flinches at memories. "Everyone burned."

You shudder. You have had dreams of fire, and you've burned yourself in the frustrating attempts at fire magic Nimueh forced you into. Burns are terrible, and the thought of being burned as a witch is terrifying.

"Thank you, Gwen." You smile at her, and fear that it makes you look like a ghoul. "I understand."

Gwen looks like she doubts you do. That's fine. She certainly doesn't understand the fear that makes you cautious, and it's better that she doesn't. Gwen curtsies and leaves. When her footsteps fade, you fling yourself to your knees and vomit into your chamber pot.

* * *

><p>It's not a week later that there is another execution. This time you force yourself to not take your eyes from the woman as she is dropped into the well with iron weights on her feet. Uther watches with approval.<p>

* * *

><p>You dream one night of whips hitting flesh and flaying it open. You wake up not screaming but retching. Gaius is still trying to make you a draught, but the most any of them have done is turn your stomach as you drink them.<p>

Gwen comes in that morning humming cheerily. You try to mirror her sunny attitude.

"Well, what's gotten into you Gwen?" She blushes. You laugh. "Come on, out with it."

"Gaius has finally gotten himself an apprentice. I've met him." You raise your eyebrows. This is good news indeed. It will free some of Gwen's time, and save Gaius from his constant tramping around the town carrying bags.

"And how is he?" Gwen keeps blushing.

"He's very sweet. His mother knew Gaius, apparently, and now he's finally come to Camelot though his mother died a very very long time ago." You smile slightly. Gwen clearly likes him, and she has good taste. You sit down and begin writing a letter to the steward at Tintagel. Gwen tidies your chambers.

She leaves to fetch some flowers to brighten the room, and you think that when she comes back it will be time to prepare for the banquet. The door opens while you're behind the screen figuring out what dress to wear.

"Gwen, which gown do you think is best? Should I go for blue, or wear the red and really give the boys a night to remember?" You call over it, sliding the simpler green gown down from your shoulders as you go. You're giggling as you say it.

"Um…" That's a masculine sounding um. You turn your head, instinctively putting your arms over your chest though only your shoulders show above the screen. You look over the screen, and meet gorgeous blue eyes.

"Merlin." You breathe. It's him, grinning at you like the sun. You push the screen away and fling yourself into his arms. You holds you close, and you feel relief like nothing you've never felt. You're not alone. "What are you doing here?"

He releases you, and you realize that your bodice is around your waist and your shift is hardly decent attire. It isn't decent for you to be alone with him at all. You cough and shake your head so long black tresses fall over your breasts.

"I came because I don't think you should be alone here." You smile at him. He smiles sheepishly. "Nimueh and I had an argument over it, but Gaius was a friend of my mother's, so I knew I'd have a place. Besides" he adds "I never wanted to spend my life in the Isle."

You can understand that. Merlin, despite his being nice to everyone, didn't seem to have any real friends there. Besides you, Sophia was the only one there near his age, and she was hardly friendly.

"I'm glad you're here." You say softly. He takes your hand, and you feel like someone cares for you. It's wonderful, and you haven't felt anything so reassuring since you last embraced your father.

"So am I. I feel like I'm meant to be here." He grins at you. "Oh, and I have a draught from Gaius for you."

You remember the last time Merlin wanted to help your dreams with shame. You take the vial of scummy looking liquid, and grimace. Merlin laughs at your expression.

"Don't laugh, you've never had to taste one of these! They're disgusting."

"I know. You don't want to know what's in it." Merlin responds cheerfully. You decide he's probably right. The door to the chamber creaks. You remember that this is _dreadfully_ improper, though Merlin is a gentleman enough to not be looking anywhere but your face.

You push Merlin back a few steps and bolt behind the screen just as Gwen walks into the room.

"Gwen, could you pass me my red dress?" You call over your shoulder, face to the wall. There's silence, then what sounds like a suppressed laugh from Gwen and the door closing. There are two doors to your chambers, and both Merlin and your maid used the smaller one, which isn't guarded.

"Here my Lady." Gwen walks in, looking amused. Merlin must have bluffed her. "Are you wearing it to the banquet?"

The banquet is a celebration for something like the birthday of one of Uther's ancestors, and you don't see the point of it. But now you've got a reason to look good.

"Yes, I think so." Gwen is obviously wondering who you've decided to impress. You're not foolhardy enough to admit to anything.

"Well, Morgana." Gwen folds her arms. "You're certainly going to attract some eyes."

"I hope so." You hope they're beautiful blue eyes, and you hope they darken with lust when they see you. Gwen binds up your hair and you put glittering gold on your wrists and waist.

* * *

><p>You enter the hall, where all the other nobles are in their finery, and no man can keep their eyes off you. You idly pick up a strawberry and eat it just to torture them, all the while searching for Merlin.<p>

"Morgana." You turn and curtsy to Uther. He is looking at you strangely. "You look stunning."

"Thank you. It is an old dress." You say modestly.

"I know." Well, that's somewhat insulting. The dress may be old, but it looks good as new, probably because your mother never wore it much. "I remember your mother wearing it."

"Do you?" You ask, surprised. You didn't realize that Uther knew her well.

"Yes. It was before you were born." Uther sounds old. He walks away and at last you spot Merlin in the crowd. He's clearly trying not to stare. You flash him a secret smile, and half the noble men in the vicinity's mouths drop open. They all hope that it was directed at them.

The possibility that it went towards the boy keeping an eye on the drinking occurs to none of them. Merlin however, knows perfectly well who you were looking at, and blushes.

You glide away to talk to a minister, and feel like at last something worthwhile has been accomplished at one of these ridiculous celebrations.

* * *

><p>The problem, of course, is that you cannot see Merlin alone. For a start both of you are busy. Merlin's a good physician-you remember how he healed your hands-even without magic, and he usually ends up being sent all over Camelot to help the lower town. You have your letters of appeal for the poor.<p>

It's a campaign you've taken up, helping the poor. You know that it's better form to simply sow them shirts all day, but that would be boring, and you accomplish more with one letter to a noble you flirt with at dinner (all the while enjoying Merlin's gaze) than a month of shirts.

So really, the time you two are both free is usually the evenings, after banquets.

But if were Merlin to be caught, in your _rooms_, _alone_, in the evening? You don't want to think about it. So you snatch conversations in Gaius's chambers, quick whispers in deserted hallways. You make it a personal mission to find the places in Camelot no one goes.

It's while looking for them that you stumble upon a picture of the late Queen Igraine. The hallway is deserted, though clean and lit with torches. Her portrait hangs high on the wall, clearly in a position of honor.

You've never seen a likeness of her before. She's very beautiful. Her hair is a light shade of blonde, and she has high cheekbones, and bright green eyes. The Queen wears a red dress, though it's not an overly sensual one, and her smile is beautiful. Her painted eyes stare from the portrait with a gaze somehow full of love and gentleness.

Actually, she looks a bit like your mother. You step closer, fascinated. Uther never speaks of his dead family.

"She is beautiful, is she not?" You start violently. Uther came up behind you with no warning, and it sends shivers down your back. When you've something to hide, a King who is so light on his feet is terrifying.

"She is, my lord." You respond, your voice as steady as you can make it. This will _not_ be a place to meet your magical friend. "Many in Camelot must still mourn her death."

It was when Queen Igraine died that Uther's war on magic began. You weren't born yet then, you were born a few years later, and you pity those who came to life in a time of such death.

"I know." King Uther stares at the portrait. His wife smiles down at him, and it occurs to you that mercy died in this Kingdom when childbirth took her. And all that, just to have the son she died for killed by a witch twenty years later. "Morgana, I want you to understand the way of things in Camelot."

"I think I do." You understand. Uther has a fit of paranoia, a peasant who may or may not be a practitioner is executed. Uther shakes his head.

"You do not. Magic killed Igraine."

What?

"I beg your pardon, my lord?" Uther gestures for you to come closer. You do, fascinated. Was it the fault of the good Queen that your people are persecuted? That's some irony.

"I had a friend, long ago, who was a sorceress." His tone goes ugly on the word sorceress. "My wife and I needed a child, to secure the throne. She swore that by means of the old religion she could give my wife one, and I, naïve fool that I was, trusted her. She said there would be a price, and I said I would pay it."

You remember that in one of your first lessons, Nimueh told you that magic always had a price. You thought that price came in weariness and headaches, not blood.

"She lied. When Igraine was dying in childbirth, and I told Nimueh to save her, Nimueh laughed in my face, and told me there would be a life for a life, and I had agreed to this nine months ago." Sadness and hatred mix in his words. You almost don't hear it.

Nimueh? _Nimueh?_

"W-what?" Your voice shakes. Your beautiful, cold, teacher, was the one who brought this onto your people?

"Nimueh was a beautiful sorceress, and her heart was black. She thought to bring down Camelot itself." He looks at you. "I know that you do not often enjoy the duty of eradicating magic, but you can see that it turns all who practice it into monsters."

"Yes, my lord." You whisper. You glance up at the beautiful Queen again, who smiles so benevolently. Perhaps she was a twisted shrew, and Nimueh killed her for that. But you have trouble believing that, for every story you ever heard about Queen Igraine from your father was that she was a wonderful woman, and you have absolute trust in your father.

"I'm glad you understand." Uther pauses. "If you wish, you may train with the knights today."

You spend that afternoon in mail, raining blow after blow on knights. You're a bit out of practice, but soon they are falling under your blade like children. Your face is obscured by the helm you wear, and you're grateful. They can't see your eyes, and the horror that lingers in them.

Merlin passes by the fields. He stops to grin as you smack the blade from Sir Owain's hand and slam your hilt into his ribcage. You turn and lift the eyepiece of the helm, shooting Merlin one pleading look.

He freezes. You stare, praying that he understands. Merlin nods, barely perceptible.

You must talk to him. Merlin must have some form of answers for you. You're not sure that you trust Morgause to be honest with you, but Merlin has said that he's quarreled with Nimueh, perhaps the witch doesn't hold the influence over him that makes her master at the Isle. Merlin is honest.

You go back to bashing a new knight.

Merlin arrives in your chambers that night as soon as Gwen has gone, holding two glasses of wine.

You let him in and close the door.

"Nimueh killed Queen Igraine." You whisper to him. Even in your own chambers, you can almost feel your teacher's eyes. Merlin stares, and slowly puts down the wine glass. "Did you know?"

"No." He murmurs. "I knew that Nimueh had history with Camelot, but nothing like this."

"A history?" Merlin passes you the wine, and you take a drought.

"I came to the Isle when my mother was killed by bandits, a few years before you got there." Merlin shivers. "Nimueh was…intense. She wanted me to use magic to wipe Uther off the face of the earth."

"You didn't?" Merlin shrugs.

"That's not the right way to use magic. She couldn't make me, and she knew it." You drink more wine and wonder just how powerful Merlin really is. He sighs. "I think she wants you to kill Uther instead."

"_What?"_ You exclaim. You may be a warrior, and Uther has killed so many of your people…but to kill him?

"Well, she talked to Mary Collins for a long time, and Mary killed Prince Arthur…with magic, I might add." Merlin says the last words wryly. You remember that awful dream.

"You can't be saying that what he's doing is justified."

"No!" Merlin closes his eyes. "But I think Uther is a sad, bitter old man, and that Nimueh should never have killed that poor woman. I can't see why she would, she could have killed Uther himself. That's what he agreed to."

You think they were probably lovers. Nimueh is horribly beautiful, and feeling as though he'd conspired with a mistress to kill a wife would provoke stronger feelings than that of some strange enchantress killing her. It would make him feel more betrayed.

"Who knows." You say. "Nimueh may have just been being cruel."

She's certainly adept at that.

"She's good at that." Merlin agrees with your thoughts. "Did you ever figure out the fire magic?"

"No." You say bitterly. You hated those lessons. You don't like being burned.

"Can I help?" Merlin smiles at you. Gold is beginning to gather beneath the blue.

You hesitate. But no one is here. You haven't gotten to work with magic since coming to Camelot, and your desire to burns in your chest. You nod. Besides, you harbor some curiosity towards Merlin's magic-how does he know how to use it, if Nimueh never taught him?

"Forbernum." He takes a hand to his mouth and breathes into it. Your magic stirs as his eyes turn gold. With it stirs desire for him. Merlin holds out his hand to you, and a flame is cupped in it. "Here, take it."

"I'll burn myself." Merlin shakes his head and smiles. Your hand goes to his of it's own volition, and his palm slides beneath yours. The fire ends up cupped in your hand, and Merlin is holding it. You can feel Merlin's gentle magic cupping your hand, but it's _your_ magic that holds the flame.

You laugh with sheer delight, to be here doing the impossible, to be with Merlin, to be _alive_ and with magic. It courses through your veins, stirred by Merlin's gift. You turn to him, face alight.

Merlin moves forward and kisses you. You kiss him back, loving the gentle feel of his lips against yours. Your magic roars in your ears, and the flame you hold grows, sparking and going through a full spectrum of colors. When Merlin draws away, smiling, it's burning a pure white.

You stare him, breathless.

"We can't." Merlin's face falls. "We're both in enough danger already."

"We can protect ourselves!" Merlin insists. You shake your head rapidly.

"No! Merlin, if Uther ever catches you here, you'll be killed, and if Morgause finds out she'll be furious, and I'll have to marry one day! I'm the King's ward and the Princess of Tintagel!" Merlin takes his hand from yours. The flame is still burning white, fueled by your magic, but you feel very cold.

"Fine." Merlin gets to his feet and down his glass of wine.

"Merlin!" You call before he can leave. "We…we can still be friends."

"I'm glad." Merlin leaves. You stare at the flame in your hand, which is flickering out. You close your fingers into a fist and extinguish it. Then you try to go to bed, and stay up all night picturing Merlin's eyes.

* * *

><p>You still talk to Merlin. That doesn't change. He looks at you differently though, with sad eyes. Gwen comments that you don't seem well. Uther eyes you over dinner and inquires as to whether you need a physician's care.<p>

You reassure both that you're fine. Eventually you even the heart to laugh with Gwen, over one lord's pathetic attempts to woo you. It's not the same laughter as with Merlin, but it feels good.

Then Merlin bursts into your chambers. Your mouth falls open, because he's got a pale little druid boy with him.

"Merlin, what?" He slams the door shut. The warning bell is tolling over Camelot.

"I didn't know where else to go!" He says desperately. You both look at Gwen. "He's just a child."

"Quick, put him behind the changing screen." Gwen hisses. You want to embrace her as Merlin hurries the boy behind the screen, but do not. Then Gwen might think this is more than the same sympathy for children she herself possesses.

"He was afraid and in the square." Merlin says rapidly. "The guards are searching for him."

On cue, there is a knock at the door. The three of you stare at each other, wide eyed. There is another, harder, knock. You can't refuse to let them search, that will endanger your own life, but where to put a child…

"Merlin, get behind the screen." You rush behind it with him and push his head down. "Crouch!"

He does so. The boy simply collapses, his eyes rolling up in his head.

"Gwen, answer the door." You order. Gwen flicks you a wide eyed look, and you duck behind the screen as well, but stay standing. You thank all the forces of nature that you aren't wearing a lace up dress as you jerk it down around your shoulders.

"What?" Gwen demands from the guards.

"A boy has escaped, and King Uther has ordered that we search every room in the palace." One pushes his way past Gwen. He stops short when he sees you behind the screen with your bare shoulders. From his view, there's no evidence you're wearing anything at all.

Merlin, who is pressed against your leg, muffles a laugh. You kick him.

"May I help you?" You say acerbically. The guard is turning red. "By all means, search my chambers. I'll watch from here."

You fold your arms and glare. The guards sweeps the chambers with one look and turns, mumbling that he's satisfied you aren't hiding the boy. You sigh in relief when the door closes, and Gwen mirrors you. Merlin laughs.

"That was bloody brilliant." You grin down at him as you pull your dress back over your shoulders. Gwen coughs. "Gwen, thank you."

"He's an innocent child." But Gwen is looking at Merlin with soft brown eyes, and an unpleasant feeling roils in your chest. He grins back at her. You swallow.

"Is he hurt?" Gwen comes behind the screen. Merlin pulls away some of the boy's sleeve, and there's a deep wound there. Gwen gasps. "They used their swords on him." You say. Anger threatens to overwhelm you.

_How can you defend the man who orders this?_ You look at Merlin, asking that with your eyes. Merlin looks at you wearily, and has no answer. Gwen crouches and pulls out a handkerchief.

"What are we going to do?" She asks in a whisper.

"Contact practitioners." He looks at you. That will be your duty. You can send a letter to Morgause, and she will doubtless ride here to take the boy. "When I've treated his wound, we'll get him out of Camelot."

"Okay." Gwen says nervously. "What can I do?"

"Cover for us." Merlin tells her. She nods, setting her shoulders. "Can you go tell Gaius that I'm finding the materials for a hangover cure, because Sir Percival had a late night?"

"I will." Gwen gets to her feet and rushes out. She flicks one look over her shoulder at the three she's leaving-a royal ward alone with a peasant, and between them a criminal. But you have faith in Gwen.

Once she's gone, Merlin spreads his hand over the boy's wound. You watch as his eyes glow gold, and his brow furrows. No words, just as with your burns.

The boy shudders. The skin around his wound is turning a light pink. Before your eyes skin meets skin and forms, leaving a red line and sensitive looking skin around it. Merlin takes Gwen's handkerchief and begins cleaning the blood off it.

The boy opens his eyes and looks at both of you. You reach out and take his hand.

"My name is Morgana. Don't worry. You're safe here." His eyes are the palest shade of blue-green you can imagine. They study you in a disconcerting way. But at the same time, you feel like you would give your life for him.

_I know._ He says in your head. You whip your head around to stare at Merlin.

"I heard it too. It's a talent the druids have." He tells you softly. The boy has fallen asleep, his head in your lap. "How soon can you send word to Morgause?"

"Fetch me pen and paper. I'll start now." Merlin does. You begin to write, careful not to disturb the sleeping boy. Merlin sits next to you, his hand on the boy's forehead, his eyes occasionally glimmering gold. You think he's chasing nightmares from the boy's head.

When Gwen returns, having brought back a request from Gaius for feverfew, Merlin gets up. The boy's eyes snap open. Merlin crouches down again and touches his hand.

"I'll be back. Don't worry." The boy nods and huddles closer to you. His eyes on Gwen are suspicious. But they ease when Gwen shows you the fresh sheets she got for your bed, and instead begins putting them down behind the screen for the boy.

* * *

><p>You leave the boy in Gwen's care when you go to dinner. All Uther can talk about is the boy, and how he will be drowned when they catch him. You can barely force food down your throat.<p>

That night, you send a falcon for Morgause. You sleep on the floor next to the boy, and both your dreams are fraught with anxiety.

* * *

><p>His father dies in the morning. Gwen holds him as the axe falls and your mirror shatters. She lost her father to Uther as well. Merlin and you watch the execution. Your eyes meet, and you know that his neck itches just as yours does.<p>

Gwen stays up with you that night. She wraps an arm around your shoulders.

"You're a good woman, Gwen." You say to her quietly. Gwen smiles softly.

"No one can say no to Merlin." Your heart sinks. Gwen is a sweet girl, an uncomplicated girl, a girl Merlin would be able to love without secrets. Merlin would be a fool not to take her.

"I suppose not." You shrug and try to appear diffident. You're not sure if Gwen is buying the act. The boy whimpers, and you reach down to stroke his brow. "The poor boy."

"I'm surprised at how you care for him." Gwen comments. "I know of course that you would always care for an innocent child because you're really very nice but you seem…different with him."

"It is. It is a bond Gwen, one unlike any other." The only possible comparison is your feelings for Merlin. But you have no desire to kiss this boy anywhere but his brow, nor do you feel the same overwhelming urge to protect Merlin.

Gwen is silent for the rest of the night. In the morning, there's a note on your window saying that Morgause will be in the forest tomorrow night. You will enjoy being reunited with your sister, even if only for a few moments.

"We're getting you out." You whisper to the boy. "To safety. To a place no one can harm you." With the possible exception of Nimueh, but no need to get into that. He nods. Merlin walks in, not knocking. As usual.

"I know how I can get him out." He announces. "There's a secret passage behind the biggest shield in the armory that leads out of the citadel. From the lower town I'll be able to leave through one of the gates."

"I will take him." Gwen and Merlin instantly protest. "If either of you get caught, you'll be killed on the spot! I have a chance of getting off with a warning." Steel enters your voice. "I won't let my friends die."

You also want to be the one to deliver him to safety. It's strange, but you feel like it is your right, like you wouldn't feel safe if Gwen or even Merlin did it. You must be the one.

"Fine." Merlin relents. Gwen nods reluctantly. He steps up to you and crouches down as if to examine what's left of the boy's wound. Instead he whispers in your ear. "If you're going to be caught, say "arahat merkala nox". It won't make you invisible, but if you're in the shadows it'll keep you from being noticed."

"Thank you." You both hope that it won't be necessary to use it. The three of you sit behind the screen until Merlin is called away to help Gaius. Then it is only Gwen clasping a dark red cloak around your shoulders and patting the little boy, as he clings to your side.

As soon as the sky is dark, you run. You take the boy by the hand and rush through the more deserted hallways (the ones you know of because you wanted ways to be alone with Merlin) and try not to make a sound. You see a maid out of the corner of your eye, and run faster.

The warning bell tolls as you boost the boy into the passage. You rush down it, praying that this will not be the time the guards of Camelot show some competence. A shout echoes down the passage, and the boy holds your hand tighter.

You cannot believe how much your are risking for him, as torches shine behind you. You must remember to thank Gwen for this cloak, for it hides any clues to your identity. The guards probably think you are some druid woman.

The boy whimpers and you jerk him around a corner. You're in the lower town now, which means there will be twisting streets and shadowy corners. There will also be citizens about, citizens who will think nothing of turning you in.

You plunge into a corner and draw your cloak around the both of you. You whisper Merlin's incantation and feel magic rising, cloaking you. Everything in your vision darkens.

Guards rush by your corner, looking at it and seeing nothing. As soon as they've passed you run, and make it out of the town because the guards were too stupid to cover the exits. They have no leader to direct them, after all.

You take the boy into the forest, and Morgause is waiting on a silver stallion. There's a smaller horse next to her, with an empty saddle.

"Morgana!" She dismounts and embraces you. "I was afraid you'd be caught."

"No, don't worry. We're safe." You just need to make your way back into the castle. Morgause gets on one knee and looks the druid boy in the eye.

"My name is Morgause, boy." You frown at her, and she gentles her tone. "Do you know where we're going?"

"The Isle of Bardsey." You start when you hear him speak. He turn his head to look at you. "Thank you for taking care of me, my lady."

"It was my pleasure." You respond. You bend down and hug him. Morgause smiles fondly.

"I'm taking you to study under the greatest of all practitioners." His eyes are suddenly chips of ice.

"You are wrong. Emrys is the greatest practitioner." Morgause sours to see Nimueh talked of so. You sort of want to giggle.

"That's a legend." The boy looks back at you like you two share a private joke. You don't understand it, but you smile back at him because you will miss this boy. It's odd, but you want to raise him, perhaps with Merlin, and teach him magic yourself. "Come."

He follows her towards the horses.

"Wait!" You call. "I don't even know your name."

"Mordred." He says over his shoulder. Morgause twitches. You watch them ride away into the night, then prepare to go back into Camelot. First you discard the cloak-if you're caught sneaking back in, it will incriminate you. You wore your plainest green gown in the hopes that no one would look closely at you.

But you cannot change your face to not be the King's ward, so as you slip back into Camelot you whisper a prayer. It is in vain, for before you've gone three steps in a guard spots you and yells.

You stop, and lift your chin, glaring.

"Yes?" Your voice drips ice. Being the King's ward is the best defense you have right now. He freezes.

"Ah, I'm sorry My Lady, but the King ordered that there was a curfew tonight and anyone who violated it was to be brought to him on suspicion of helping the druid boy escape." You laugh scornfully. He looks intensely embarrassed. "My Lady…"

"Fine, take me to him." You toss your head and march in front of the guard, into Camelot. Uther is in the throne room, with a goblet of wine. He stares when you are brought before him.

"Morgana?" He asks incredulously. You curtsy, hoping to brazen through.

"My Lord." Uther looks angry. He isn't going to laugh and let you go to your chambers. You search your mind for a good lie.

"What were you doing outside?" He sounds on the point of suspicion. You let your cheeks color, though you try to disguise that it's fear that's flushing your face. You duck your head.

"I…my Lord, it is somewhat embarrassing." He is silent. You sigh. "You know I am grateful to you for taking me in. It seems that I have done nothing in return, though you show me such kindness. I wanted to see if I could find the boy."

Uther laughs the laugh of the surprised man. You clasp your hands together and look up defiantly.

"I have my sword, I was prepared!" Still laughing, Uther motions the guards away from you.

"Morgana, you are a delight to my household. But that druid was dangerous, and you should not have been in the lower town alone. Something could have happened." You sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. You are a foolish girl, who is being shown wisdom by her elders and betters.

"Yes, sire." Uther chuckles again.

"My Morgana, out catching druids. I am not sure whether to pity your future husband or think him the luckiest man in the world." You hope that you are not paling. You always knew that this loomed on the horizon, but the mere mention still comes as a shock.

"Husband? You are looking for one?" Uther shrugs.

"Oh, always. You don't look pleased at the prospect of marriage."

"I like it here in Camelot, and how am I to know that my future husband shall treat me as well? And where in the world might I go that would compare to the grandeur of Camelot?" That will tickle his ego.

"One can never see what the future holds." Uther dismisses you after that enigmatic statement. You go to your chambers, where Gwen is waiting. She smiles brilliantly when you walk in, and as she unlaces your dress you can tell she is relieved. Gwen is a friend, she must have feared for you. It is nice, having a friend.

But despite that, when you're in bed, it is Merlin you cannot stop thinking about, wondering how afraid for you he was. You try not to wish he was with you.

* * *

><p>You stand frozen. You clutch your skirt, knowing that your nails will mark it and still not able to stop. You stare down into the courtyard.<p>

Gwen is laughing with Merlin. He makes an expansive gesture and she holds out a purple flower. Your knuckles are turning white. Merlin puts the flower in his neckerchief, and for a brief moment, you hate Gwen.

You turn from the window in anger and stride to your seat to be furious. Gwen bustles in, putting the other flowers in a vase and chattering about her brother and his swordsmanship.

"Get out." You snap at her. Gwen blinks and stops, obviously bewildered. "I want to be alone."

"What?"

"Did I stutter? Out!" Gwen rushes out and you stew in silence all day, unable to write or brush your hair and do anything at all useful. You sit there alone, and cannot understand why you would gladly murder Gwen.

She'd be good for Merlin. It's dangerous for you and Merlin to be together. As evening comes around, you realize you don't care. You throw a white shawl around your shoulders and stride through Camelot for the physician's chambers.

Merlin opens the door with a ready smile. It's a smile you could look at every day of your life without getting tired of.

"Morgana?" His smile melts into concern. You push him into the room and shut the door behind you. You don't even bother looking to see if Gaius is there.

"I don't care."

"What?"

"I don't _care_ about danger. I don't care about any of it." Merlin still looks confused. You grab him and kiss him, and if Gaius is there then let him gawp. Merlin puts his hands on your waist and kisses you back.

When you break apart, Merlin is still confused. But he is obviously happy.

"We'll have to stay secret." You add. Merlin nods.

"Um, not that I object, but what brought this on?" You blush. Gwen's flower lies on a table.

"Gwen and you in the market." Merlin laughs.

"Gwen is just my friend. Not that this means you should _not_ feel that way, because I don't care either." You think that Merlin is extraordinarily oblivious, because you're rather certain that Gwen feels more than friendship for Merlin.

But, as you rest your head on his chest and feel his arms around you, you don't care.

**A/N: For anyone who cares, I listened to: back to December by Taylor Swift (A song I don't even like but which has a very excellent Mergana video on you tube) and "Come what May" from Moulin Rouge.**

**Reviews?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Well hello there…yes, I'm a terrible person, but I haven't even seen Merlin s4 past the first episode. I really, really, really, want to, but schoolwork has made my obsession time limited, and I'm afraid Merlin got pushed to the back. **

**Thanks to everybody who reviewed the last chapter!**

Life does not change overly much. It changes in little ways. You'll walk into your chambers and find a vase of roses there, or lie down to bed and realize that a little spring of some sweet smelling herb is on your pillow.

You dress up for banquets. Uther laughs and asks if there's someone you're trying to impress. You toss your head, and tell him that you only want to make sure all the men know just what they're missing out on. You often wear your beautiful blue dress, because you know Merlin loves how you look in it.

At these banquets you smile at the general vicinity of Merlin, and he grins back, and you both _know_. Sometimes you'll reach out and pull him into a corner to kiss him, and Merlin will kiss back no matter how unexpected it was. It's a game, of who can pop up more suddenly.

It's a game you always win. Merlin is clumsy and bad at sneaking. But he's great at brightening your days anyway, just by smiling at you across a courtyard or whispering to you that you look beautiful when you pass by him, wearing chain mail because you're going to bash in a knight. Whenever Merlin can he watches, and cheers you on. The knights think it's only to mock them. You know it's because he's proud that you can move that way with a sword.

Whether or not Gwen knows is debatable. You know for a fact that she suspects, but you don't plan on telling her. She is still your friend, though you're too happy with Merlin to care about whether it's paining her.

The evenings are best. You sit in front of the fire in your chambers, Merlin holding you, and manipulate the flames. Merlin helps. You delight in watching him make shapes from sparks. Sometimes you'll take a meal there, and introduce Merlin to the foreign foods imported into Camelot for you and Uther's pleasure.

It's simple happiness. You have someone who understands you, who will wrap you in his arms without question when you come back from a meal with Uther where he spent the entire time talking about the merits of drowning versus burning witches. Merlin knows to just bring you to the fireside and rub your back, and let you cling to him.

But it isn't your entire life. Sometimes you'll find a note from Morgause on your windowsill and go to the forest to speak with her. You desperately want to ask about Nimueh and her history with Uther, but you're afraid.

It's on one such evening that she brings up Merlin.

"And how is that idiot who went to Camelot?" You don't think Merlin is an idiot anymore. He's oblivious and he's _kind_, but he can do things with magic that you'd be in awe of if they weren't accompanied by his enormous smile.

"Merlin is well." She narrows her eyes at you.

"He isn't being improper, is he?" You sigh. It's wearying sometimes, this obsession everyone has with Merlin and you being separated.

"Merlin is my friend, sister." Morgause smiles.

"Good. I've got plans for you." You stiffen.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Cenred and I are making plans to march on Camelot. You could let us into the city. When we have conquered, you could be wed to any prince on the borders, and consolidate the land at the same time." Her eyes glint. You do not think this is "Great Things Afoot In Albion" at all.

"You cannot do that!" You hiss. Morgause looks surprised. "If you go to war, the innocents of Camelot will die!"

"It's worth it." She insists.

"For heavens sake, your quarrel is with Uther alone! War is only an option when all other things are exhausted! Our _father_ told me that." Morgause pauses.

"Father ruled a tiny kingdom with barely any political power." Morgause says, finally. You suck in your breath.

"A prosperous, peaceful, _happy_ Kingdom." You say coldly. "I have not heard the same said about Mercia."

"But Morgana, the power we would gain!" Morgause sounds genuinely confused. You step forward and take her hand.

"Sister, power is not all there is in life." Merlin is not a King, and he is a happier person than Uther. Uther whose wife and son were both killed by magic. "If we attempt to destroy all of Camelot for vengeance against only him, we are like him."

"_Like_ him?" She stares at you. "You speak as Merlin did to Nimueh."

"He's not entirely a fool." You tip your chin up. "Morgause, Camelot is my home. Do not bring death and destruction to it. Uther is old. We can wait for him to die."

"Then I will tell Cenred to not attack, for your sake." Morgause says quietly. Relief melts through you. Your feelings for Camelot are conflicted. Uther constantly persecutes your people, but you have seen him worry over his kingdom and know he cares for his people. Nimueh holds a sanctuary for all who hold magic, but it was she that killed his wife and brought this down on all of you.

That night when you go back to Camelot, you wish that Merlin could be in your rooms. But he's in his own chambers because he can hardly stay overnight in your rooms, that is simply _beyond_ even your sensibilities. Your virginity is for your husband, and throwing it away before marriage is paving the road to your own downfall.

So you sleep alone in your room, and have a bad dream. Your wrists chafe and you taste blood in your mouth, and there is blood everywhere, and there are people yelling and magic roars around you, truly terrifying you for the first time in your life.

You wake up shrieking to find that you've almost burned down your rooms. If it weren't that Merlin helped you learn fire magic, you would have been unable to stop the flames from crawling up the curtain.

* * *

><p>One evening, you are alone in your chambers with Merlin. He is leaning against the table, making you laugh with a tale of Gaius trying to tell a young boy that he wasn't going crazy just for thinking that the girl who lived next door wasn't quite repulsive. He's laughing as he tells the story, and neither of you are prepared for guards to burst into the chamber.<p>

You both freeze. The guards grab Merlin, and Uther strides in as they take him away.

For one moment, you think that they know Merlin has magic and they're going to execute him, and you are terrified, but Uther simply looks around the room, at the unslept on bed in particular, and you realize what they think. Thank god they did not come in while you were kissing.

"My lord!" You say angrily as Uther leaves, not saying a word. "What is the meaning of this?"

"He is behaving badly. You are my ward, you should not be alone with a serving man." Uther says over his shoulder. "He'll be executed at dawn."

"No! Sire!" You rush out the doors after him, trying to keep up as he strides to the throne room. Probably to drink that goblet of wine he has with every execution. "Nothing like that was going on!"

"I do not doubt _you_." Uther says icily. You slam the door to the throne room shut as you follow him in. Yes, Uther is lifting the drink to his lips.

"King Uther!" You declare. "The boy was delivering a draught for my nightmares, he's Gaius's apprentice! I was grateful, and we were making conversation, that is all! You cannot execute him for running an errand!"

"He should not have been there." Uther responds flatly. By his tone, he will take no further argument. You ignore the tone.

"How can you not trust me?" You demand. You must make this about an innocent being killed and about your own morals, not the fact that Merlin is something to you. And how did they know Merlin would be in your chambers?

"It's not that, it's that he was a male, and think on your reputation, Morgana!" You shake your head, planting your feet.

"And executing him will help my reputation? I have never disagreed with your decisions before now, but this is cruelty!" Uther whips his head around to glare at you, and you try to salvage that last statement. "He is only a boy who was in the wrong place when you decided to storm my chambers."

"We had heard that he had been there before." Uther says grimly. The words feel like a punch to the gut. Who would know that?

Gwen.

But she is your _friend._

"Yes, he has." You cross your arms. "Because he is Gaius's apprentice, and I have nightmares often. Gaius is an old man, therefore the boy delivers instead. I have the gall to sully myself by _thanking him_ and on occasion asking after Gaius." You glare. "You thought it was fine to burst into my chambers with a band of guards for something so trivial?"

"It is not trivial!" Uther roars.

"He is only a serving boy!" You yell back. "By executing him, you yourself make me guilty of murder for the sake of a conversation!"

"You are of too high a status to talk with serving boys!" He snarls. You are ready to spit fire.

"I am your ward! And there is nothing wrong with talking!" Uther takes two steps away from you with his back turned, then whirls to face you.

"There would not be, were you only that." He takes a deep breath. "You are my daughter Morgana. He is far beneath you."

You stare at him. Your face has gone stark white.

"What?" You whisper. Uther steps back to you and tips your face up. You meet his eyes-those eyes which are also grey with a little bit of green-and they are not liars eyes.

"You are my daughter, Morgana Pendragon." He says. You back away from him, barely staying on your feet. You cannot be his daughter. You have a father. Your father was great and good and kind and he is dead.

"That's impossible." Uther shakes his head.

"I was in Tintagel. Gorlois had ridden out to a northern village, and she was lonely." You remember that picture of Queen Igraine, how she was similar to your mother, how your mother bequeathed to you a necklace with the Pendragon token on it. "I do not take pride in it."

"This cannot be." You cannot be a Pendragon. Uther sighs.

"It is. Records will back my presence at Tintagel when you would have been conceived." You cover your face with your hands. Uther steps close to you. "Morgana, I did not wish to impregnate Lisanor, but I could not think of a maiden who would be a better princess of Camelot."

"Then I ask clemency for the boy as your daughter." All of this is wrong. All you can think of to do is make sure that Merlin survives. You think that you will need him when this is through. "I will not have the blood of an innocent on my conscious."

"Fine." Uther says wearily. "I will pardon the boy, if it bothers you so."

"Thank you." Then you flee. Once in the privacy of your rooms you collapse, put your face in your hands and sob. There is the sound of the room opening and light footsteps run to your side.

"Morgana!" Gwen's arms come round you. You nestle into them. "What will happen to him?"

She's talking about Merlin. She doesn't know. But if Uther told you, he's probably going to declare it to the rest of the court soon, and besides Gwen is a friend. She helped you save Mordred. You owe her at least one truth.

"It's not that, Uther granted him clemency. It's…" you shudder as another wave of tears hit. "It's me, I'm not who I thought I was, I'm wrong, I'm a monster…"

"No, no, Morgana." Gwen settles down next to you, rubbing your arms. You cling to her. "You could never be a monster Morgana. You're a great lady."

"No, I'm not." You squeeze your eyes shut and still the tears leak out. "I'm his daughter."

For a second, Gwen's motions on your arms still. She's realized that the person she's comforting is the Princess of Camelot, the daughter of the cruelest, most broken man in the world instead of the greatest. Then the motion resumes.

"I don't care. I'm still your friend Morgana, and you are still a wonderful woman." Gwen says firmly. That helps. That is one good opinion inside the tide of self loathing that has been rising within you. You let Gwen help you up.

"Thank you Gwen." She smiles at you gently and helps you into bed.

"Don't worry. Things will look better in the morning, and you have gotten Merlin mercy. Remember that." She kisses your forehead. "Would you like me to stay?"

"No thank you." You don't want to know how your magic will react to this as you dream. You are almost afraid to sleep. But you are exhausted from this awful revelation, and when Gwen leaves you fall asleep almost instantly.

Your dreams are hellish. They are all of Merlin crying out in pain, Merlin being led up to the platform to be burned, Merlin in a jail cell covered in chains, Merlin lying on a bed consumed with a fever. You wake screaming, and find that half your possessions have been smashed.

That is not the only thing wrong when you awake. There is strong light coming through your window, Gwen did not wake you. Yesterday comes crashing back and you put your face in your hands.

You're the daughter of a monster. You're a Pendragon, not a daughter of Cornwall. It's like having your father die all over again. It brings the revelation that half your family would think your true self repulsive. This is terrible.

Slowly, you get to your feet. You must talk to Morgause. You must talk to someone who knows that you have magic but doesn't think you are evil.

You slowly walk to the window. It offers a great view of the courtyard, the same one where they have executions, and that is _Merlin_ on the platform. You scream, hands going to your mouth, but someone locked the window and no one out there can hear you.

He's on his knees, shirtless, with his hands bound and his arms stretching out in front of him. There is a crowd around him, but you cannot feel that hungry aura from them. They mill around like they are shocked.

They should be. This is Merlin, and as a brawny man raises something above his head you scream again. Uther promised you clemency!

The blow falls on Merlin's back. He isn't being beheaded. He is being flogged. There is already a red weal on his back, and the brawny man who is administering the punishment whips him again.

How many times? You stand frozen with as blows rain down on Merlin. When he finally cries out in pain your paralysis is broken and you run to the door, planning to open it and descend on Uther in fury.

They are locked. You desperately pull and push, but it does not budge.

"Someone!" You scream. "Open the door!" You run for the smaller door, but it's locked as well. You kick it, and get nothing but a throbbing foot. You return to the primary door. "Please! Someone, open the door, let me out!"

You scratch at it with your nails. Merlin's cries echo up to your window, and when you rush back to see him his back is nothing but red. Still the blows continue. You return to the door and scream for someone to open, hit the door with all your power, try to use magic but you are afraid and do not know which spell to use and these are massive oak doors that are designed to hold up under battering rams. Nothing yields.

No one comes. You finally sink to the ground and each time you hear a sob from Merlin, one rips it's way from your own throat. You sit there and listen to the man you love be flogged, and the only possible option you have to make it stop is to throw yourself from the window. And what would _that_ accomplish?

After what seems like hours, Merlin's cries stop. You go to the window and see his body being taken off the scaffold. Gaius is running to him, there are a few knights Merlin must be friends with who are carrying him. A figure in yellow looks up at your window, and then Gwen follows them into the castle.

You sit on your bed and hope no one comes in. Your face is tearstained, your hair is mussed, your hands bloody from trying to open one of those accursed doors. Aside from looking a fright, it will be clear that it was no mere serving boy they hurt. Aside from _that_, you don't think you could stop yourself from using magic to destroy Uther if he walked in.

He does not. Eventually Gwen does, and when she sees your face she rushes to your side. She's been crying as well. The two of you hold each other for an age, then she leans back.

"One hundred lashes." She chokes out. You moan. "I thought Uther gave him mercy."

"He was going to execute him." Gwen closes her eyes. Uther did this to teach you a lesson, you know it. He did this to tell you not to defy him, for all that you are his daughter he will not tolerate challenge. Instead of beheading Merlin, he has tortured your love like a traitor. "Is Merlin…"

A hundred lashes would kill many. Gwen shakes her head.

"He's alive. He's got a fever, and he's raving, but he lives." She dabs more tears away. You have to blink a few away yourself. "Uther will want to see you."

"Yes." You spit. "I want to speak with him."

"No!" Gwen clutches your arm. "You'll get Merlin into more trouble!" She cares for Merlin, of course she would never report your meetings. Then who did? Who could possibly know?

Aside from that, she's right. If you show further defiance, Merlin will be pushed nearer to the brink of death and still Uther will say he was merciful, that he did not kill the boy. This is your _father_.

"Fine." Gwen picks out your clothing. A regal purple dress, to make Uther think you understand how your rank has changed, but nothing red because red is a color for fighting and rebellion and that is the last thing you can show to Uther. You clean your face.

When the guard comes for you, you're presentable. You walk behind him to the throne room, where Uther sits with his chancellors and the lords. You curtsy to him. You try to appear cowed, though inside you scream for his blood.

"Morgana." He says warmly. Uther is not going to mention the hundred lashes. Maybe he _does_ think he was being merciful. It is not as though this royal man has ever been lashed. Your father-no, no, King Gorlois of Cornwall-told you it was a cruel punishment, and that men often died afterwards. He believed in mercy. He kept soldiers loyal without extreme fear.

"My Lord." You say. Uther smiles at the court.

"I have brought you all here for a reason." He holds out his hand and you take it. You think that half the court believes he is going to announce that he'll soon marry you. "You all know my ward, the Lady Morgana."

Cautious sounds of agreement.

"I am here to announce that this is not so. I present to you Princess Morgana Pendragon, my daughter and the heir to the throne of Camelot!" There is a moment of utterly shocked silence. Then everyone bursts into applause. They are doubtless only applauding because Uther has the power to kill each of them, and they know it.

You smile graciously when he announces it again to the peasantry. There is more applause. A few people toss flowers at you. You try not to look like it sickens you to hear them. These are the same people who spoke not a word as Merlin was flogged.

Uther insists upon there being a banquet. Gaius is absent, caring for Merlin, so half the court gets horribly drunk. You're glad. When it is over you are able to slip away to Gaius's chambers, and no one notices.

He opens the door. You see that he has aged a year for each time the whip hit Merlin's flesh. Gaius stares at you, and you cannot read his feelings. The old man has an impressive poker face, better than Uther's. You wonder what secrets he holds.

"How is Merlin?" You ask him. Gaius sighs.

"He's still delirious. I'm trying to prevent infection." You step forward. He blocks you from his chambers. Didn't Gaius say you would always be welcome in his chambers?

"I want to see him." Every bone in your body longs for Merlin. You want to be the one who washes out these wounds, who sits vigil by his bed. So what that you are princess! Merlin is a better man than the King himself.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Gaius says softly. You peer over his shoulder. Merlin is laid out on his stomach. Sweat beads his brow. A thin white sheet is stretched over his back. "Princess Morgana."

"Gaius, please." Merlin lets out a keening noise. Gaius is clearly torn between what would happen if he shut the door in the face of the King's ward and desire to go to his patient. "He is my friend. No one knows I am here."

He grudgingly lets you in. You rush to Merlin's bed and nearly fall to your knees beside it. Gaius wipes his forehead with a damp cloth.

"Princess Morgana, look away." He instructs. "This is not for a Lady's eyes."

To your shame, you do as he says. Gaius has a talent for ordering about royalty. You blink back more tears as Merlin whimpers, and know that you cannot stay by him. During this next week, you likely will not even be able to visit him. If you breathe in his direction, Uther will know.

You go back to your chambers. On the windowsill is a note from Morgause. How did she get here? It says in her fine handwriting _"Come to me."_

* * *

><p>She is in the forest. You walk to her, and say dully "You know by now."<p>

"Most of Camelot knows." Her face is alight. "Morgana, don't you see, this is wonderful!"

Wonderful? Wonderful that your father is not who you thought he was, that half your identity as the daughter of Gorlois was snatched from you, that your memory of your mother is tainted by the knowledge that when she and Uther were young they went behind your father's back, that you are now a monster not only in the eyes of Camelot but in the eyes of your people, who despise the Pendragon line?

"How?" Is all that leaves your mouth. Morgause's eyes shine.

"Because you are heir to the throne of Camelot. You can restore magic." That is good, you suppose. You can't feel glad about it as Morgause does. Can you keep all the fiefs together, subdue the lords, or will it all descend into anarchy? You don't have strong blood in your veins. You have the blood of a monster and a weak woman.

"Oh." Morgause hugs you. You are stiff in her embrace. She has not offered the comfort you wanted.

"Sister, we will do great things. I must talk to Nimueh." Then she goes. You return to Camelot and dream of fire.

* * *

><p>You are forced to breakfast with Uther. You grimly think that if you must be his daughter you will curry his favor while you can, and perhaps you can do some more to help the people of Camelot.<p>

So you wear Pendragon red to the table. He smiles when he sees it. Once well into the meal, you start to lie to him.

"The King of Cornwall was a great man." _Greater than you will ever be, Uther Pendragon. _"And when he died, you took me in. You have been good to me. You have been like a father to me. In truth, I had begun to think of you as another father."

You look at him and tears glitter in your eyes.

"And now it turns out that I am your daughter. I'm sorry." You flutter your hand by your eyes. "I am overwhelmed. But I am not sad. It is an honor to be a daughter of this great land. Father."

It turns your stomach to call him that.

Uther gets to his feet and you two embrace. You hate the feeling of his arms around you, but it is better than the feeling of a blade to your neck. Uther will want to be near you even more now. You must guard your secret even more preciously.

All the same, his favor may be your best defense against suspicion.

* * *

><p>As the Princess of Camelot, what really happens is that you receive a lot of gifts. Soon you've enough jewelry to wear a new piece every day and not run out for a month. Gwen is the only one who will still talk to you properly. It makes you sick to see the smile on Uther's face when he watches you.<p>

Gwen is invaluable. Quite apart from helping you keep your sanity, she is free to visit Merlin. She tells you that he's woken. That he has no infection. That he's out of danger. That he asked after you.

It's still a surprise when Merlin shows up in your chambers one evening. You're sitting in front of a mirror studying yourself, trying to find traces of Uther Pendragon in your face, when you see him being reflected as well. You start.

"Merlin!" You whisper. He is standing there looking uncertain, not sure what his place is now that you've become the heir to the throne of Camelot. You rise from your seat, turning from the mirror.

Merlin is even paler than he was before. You step up to him and reach to touch his face, trailing your fingers down his cheek. He closes his eyes.

"I've heard you're Uther's daughter." Your eyes brighten with tears. Merlin is one of your people, one who has seen the monster that is your father, one who has already nearly _died_ at the hands of your father. "Should I offer condolences?"

You laugh. It's a slightly broken sound, but it's a laugh. Merlin still looks unsure, but he hugs you anyway. You cling to him and know that when it comes to your feelings, this changes nothing.

"I'm so sorry." You look up at him. "Uther had said he would show leniency. I was locked in my chambers."

"It's fine. I'd be dead if not for you." Merlin smiles at you, and it's a loving smile. This changes nothing for him as well. He sits down on the edge of your bed, and you sit next to him. "It didn't hurt much."

He's trying to save you from guilt. You don't tell him that you heard the entire thing and saw much of it. Instead you tug at the corner of his shirt.

"Let me see it." Merlin hesitates. "Please, I'll never be able to stop wondering if you don't." At your gentle insistence, Merlin pulls off the shirt. You put a hand to your mouth, eyes wide.

Merlin's back is awful. It's a mess of white scars and pink lines, where flesh was flayed open and still hasn't fully healed. It's his entire back, the shoulders, the small of it, the sides, and Merlin did not have much fat on his bones to cushion the blows. You press a kiss to his shoulder.

"I am sorry." Merlin turns to you and kisses your lips. You close your eyes and revel in the feeling. When the kiss is done you take his hands. "Nothing is changed for me. I love you."

"I love you too." Merlin's smile is gentle. "I wish it didn't have to be like this."

"It doesn't." He blinks at you. You hold onto his arm. "Stay with me tonight."

"I don't want to put you in danger." You laugh.

"I'm the scion of a monster and an adulteress, I'm an enchantress who is a princess in the city of death for my kind, and I have gotten the man I love flogged when I tried to have him released! I can be in no greater danger!" Merlin wraps his arms around you to stop you before you can go into hysterics. You inhale the scent of herbs that clings to him, and desire flushes your body at the touch of his bare chest to your nightgown. "And I want you."

He tips his head and kisses you, and that night you lose your most treasured commodity to the peasant you've fallen in love with.

* * *

><p>You wake when pale sunlight caresses your cheeks. Merlin is sprawled next to you in bed, one arm slung around your shoulders. Your head rests on his shoulder, black locks spreading over his pale chest. Merlin sleeps peacefully, and you study the way his face almost glows in the gentle light.<p>

There is movement at the door. Gwen enters in her usual cheerful bustling fashion. You sit bolt upright, grabbing sheets to cover your naked body, and Merlin awakes, raising himself up on his forearms.

Gwen sees you and her eyes widen. She drops the vase of flowers and they hit the ground. Luckily the vase does not shatter. She whirls and moves to the door, as if to throw it open and run.

Merlin's eyes flash gold. Gwen relaxes suddenly, and his magic lowers her unconscious body to the ground. You and he stare at each other. Then you get out of bed and tug on a nightgown, hurrying to Gwen's side as soon as you are covered. Merlin scrambles into his clothing as well, and follows you. You kneel at Gwen's side.

"She's not hurt." Merlin says. He still looks guilty. "I panicked."

"You did well." You tell him. "Go, tell Gaius you were whoring or something. I'll handle Gwen." Merlin hesitates. You touch his hand. "Don't worry."

She'll keep her mouth shut for love of Merlin, if nothing else.

"I'll signal you at the luncheon. If my dress is green then we're safe. If red, you need to flee Camelot." Merlin smiles at you. Then he leans forward and kisses you. You think that you might flee Camelot with him, your fake father's will be damned.

"I'll look for you." Then he leaves out the smaller door. That's dangerous. You think that there must be some safe way for Merlin to come to you at night, that the two of you together must be able to work out a plot.

Gwen's eyes open. She stares at you with wide brown eyes, as if the alignment of her universe has shifted. You know the feeling well.

"You fainted." You lie to her, not trusting her even now with the knowledge of what you and Merlin are. Given a choice, you probably would not have told your friend that Merlin is your lover.

"I…had a dream." She stutters. You sit back and shake your head. Gwen's shoulders shake. "Oh God. Why? Why _Merlin_, of all people to throw yourself away for, why must it be Merlin?"

"Love." You say simply. A truer answer has never passed your lips. Gwen buries her face in her hands, and you try to wrap an arm round her shoulders. Gwen shakes it off. When she looks at you, her eyes are hot and angry.

"How could you do this?" _To me._ You look at her helplessly. There is nothing more selfish than love. You did not care that Gwen had feelings for Merlin, just that you could love him. It was a mistake. It's a mistake you plan to make every night it is safe.

"I couldn't help it. You would do the same." Gwen's lips twitch. She certainly would.

"I never thought it would happen. He's a servant, and you're the heir to the throne, you'll have to _marry_, and you will both be in such terrible danger!" Even now, she's less selfish than you are.

"Only if you speak."

"Of course I won't." You offer her your comfort again, and now Gwen leans into you. "I knew he cared for you in such a way, but the laws of Camelot…"

"Hang the laws." You say fiercely. "I love Merlin, and it is my right to choose him."

Gwen closes her eyes. She's defied the law before. You do not speak, letting her mull over her decision. If she says that she cannot tolerate this, you will plead with her to give you until dawn tomorrow, then escape with Merlin in the night.

"I'll not report you." She says finally. "But please Morgana, don't make me lie."

You embrace her. Gwen is trembling in your arms. You rise to your feet and bring her with you. When you are queen, this a maid you will deck in cloth of gold and give the pick of the princes.

When Merlin sees your green gown, he smiles blindingly. You watch him make his way to Gwen and draw her away. She does not cry, but her face as he hugs her in the shadows is near heartbreak.

* * *

><p>Merlin isn't at your chambers. You would have thought that he would show up tonight, but the stars coat the sky and you are alone. You glide to the window and look out over Camelot, the bright lights of windows and the bobbing torches of the guards. It's a beautiful city. What a pity that it would see you die.<p>

There is the sound of feathers. You turn your head and see a falcon with inky black wings flying to your window. You stare as it swoops down and perches on the sill in front of you, looking up at you with enormous blue eyes.

You cannot help but laugh as it hops into your room and the wingbones shift, the feathers retract, and Merlin falls on his backside in front of you. He grins as you giggle, and help him to his feet.

"Sorry I'm late, but I had to lose Gaius." You raise an eyebrow and dust off his coat.

"And how did you accomplish that?"

"I um, went into the whorehouse, and then bolted out another door when one approached me. Then…" he waves a hand. "The bird thing."

"Yes. Let's talk about the bird thing." You say, not without amusement. You've got a lover who transforms into a bird. It's rather fantastic.

"I knew I'd need a way to get into your chambers, because Uther's not going to overlook that little door forever. So I thought that you had a window and I've got magic and I've always wanted to try a transformation." He grins proudly. "It took me a few tries yesterday, but I've got it down."

"You're amazing." You tell him, and tip your head up. He takes the opportunity and kisses you, then runs his hands over your waist, where your nightgown is loose. Merlin spends that night with you as well, and there are no dreams. As you make love you can feel his magic and yours running against each other in a way you didn't appreciate last night.

It's a sensation unlike any other, and one you'd not get from any prince. Merlin's magic is _strong_, all encompassing, but it's gentle and wonderful and your magic rests beside it when you and Merlin doze in bed, and it soothes your restless mind into peace.

Next morning a merlin flutters from your window. You stand tall and watch it glide over Camelot, safe.

**A/N: Pretty please review?**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! They absolutely made my day, and look, I'm even posting quickly now!**

Merlin comes to your chambers most nights. Each night Gwen dresses you in your pure white nightgown with the billowing sleeves. It's a gown that calls you a virgin, a maid untouched. It's unnecessary. There are nights when you are hot and heavy with desire and strip it off when she's gone, to greet Merlin lying nude on the bed.

It's different from your old romance with Merlin. You don't meet him in corridors, it's far too dangerous. As the daughter of Camelot you are hardly ever unescorted. Eligible young men flock to the court.

It's odd, how often they trip on their way to greet you and end up sprawled on the floor, ridiculous. A rumor starts that you are so beautiful men fall at your feet the moment they see you. Uther encourages the rumor, his eye always out for a man that meets your standards.

You glance at Merlin under your eyelids and restrain a giggle when you see his expression. He's not jealous of them. He's only ensuring that they look like fools in front of you.

There's danger there, but not much. Uther occasionally refers to Merlin as "the idiot". Gwen tells you he's become notorious for both clumsiness and for lending his aid as a physician without payment. There's no one less likely to be a sorcerer than Merlin.

Of course, there's the way a black bird follows you when you go out riding in the forest with a full legion of guards disturbing all the other wildlife. You wave at the daring little falcon, and the guards make jokes about even birds being entranced with you.

They don't think you can hear. You smile a secret smile, and know that your skills at deception are far above their pitiful whispers. Your love and you have put work into the lie.

Merlin avoids you in public. You ignore him, and see satisfaction in Uther's eyes when Gwen delivers Gaius's unnecessary potions. Merlin acts cowed in court to appease the social standards. You smirk and recall how much bolder he was last night.

Clothing become signals. If you wear the red dress from your mother, then Merlin must not come near you that night. Usually because you will be exhausted by nightfall or Uther is in a paranoid mood and you don't want to risk any sudden interruptions. After all, the King has a key to your chambers.

Merlin always heeds these warnings. In return, you take note of whether his neckerchief is red or blue. If it's red, as it most often is, Merlin is fine. No one suspects. If he digs out a blue piece of cloth, then you've got to be careful. He can't come.

There's never an explanation until the next night, or whatever night both of you feel it's safe. Sometimes Uther is wary for an entire week, or Merlin can't escape Gaius for days. Those times you have horrible dreams at night, dreams of ice and pain deep inside you, and then roaring columns of fire. You wake up panting, and often go back to sleep frantic with desire for both Merlin's ability to soothe your dreams and his ability to make you scream.

But these spells don't last. Uther goes back to benevolence. Merlin gets Gaius to shut up about anatomy. Whenever he tells you (always after the lovemaking, because at that point neither of you feel like waiting) that Gaius decided he had to give Merlin nightly lectures about the body, you always giggle and point out at Merlin knows quite a bit about the body. You wiggle closer to him and he rubs your thigh, murmuring that if that sort of knowledge was all that was required, you'd be the best physician in the lands yourself.

With Merlin you love flirting and whispering before dropping off to sleep, and often murmuring more teases before he takes wing in the morning and you scramble into your nightgown.

Now it is painfully obvious that Gwen would need to know. She slips inside your rooms in the morning to find you with your hair rumpled and your nightgown barely on, in a room that smells of sex and stained sheets. Merlin might have been able to clean them, but it would mean the absence of your morning bouts. You prefer Gwen's knowing to missing those laughing moments.

One morning Gwen comes in with her cheeks glowing. She's even humming. It reminds you of how she looked when talking about "Gaius's apprentice" but far more intense. As soon as you're decent, you interrogate.

"Why Gwen, you're glowing." She blushes. You grin. "Come on, out with it."

"I've met this man." You knew her feelings for Merlin would fade. "His name's Lancelot."

"So…" You let it trail off suggestively. Gwen's blush flames.

"Morgana! Lancelot isn't…I can't even explain it. He's…" Gwen goes starry eyed. "He's everything I ever wanted. He's noble, and he believes in right, and his hair is soft and he has big brown eyes."

"I'm happy for you." Gwen steps forward and takes your hand. You blink at her.

"I just wanted to say that I understand. I mean, I understand why you're doing this." "

"This" is quite clearly the love you share with Merlin. And you know that Gwen can't possibly understand what it's like to be a monster in a court that's monstrous for entirely different reasons, what it's like to have your world repeatedly ripped apart.

But perhaps she understands love.

* * *

><p>There are people who you would not say understand love at all, and first on that list is Nimueh. One night when Uther is in a bad mood and so you wear the red dress, you go to your chambers to find a scrap of parchment on your windowsill.<p>

_Sister. Meet Nimueh and I in the forest._

It's isn't much, but it gives you an ominous feeling. You look out into the night where the moon is full, and don't want to go. There's the feeling that you haven't had since childhood, when you woke up after you'd been dreaming and didn't remember anything but the feeling of terror.

Still, it's Morgause. You don't trust Nimueh anymore, not since you found that she killed Uther's wife and since you learned magic in a way far less painful from Merlin. But Morgause is your sister. You can hardly refuse her based on just a passing shiver that could have been the cool night air. Or the way the moonlight shines with a sickly glow.

You throw on your cloak and sneak out of Camelot, to the forest. Once there, the terrible feeling grows.

"Hello, Princess." You whirl around. There's Nimueh. She hasn't changed at all, she even wears that bloody red dress. Her eyes glitter. "Morgana, Morgana, Morgana. I did not think when I saw you that you would play such a role."

"What are you talking about?" You ask her sharply. "Where is Morgause?"

"Here." Morgause appears by a tree. She looks, for the first time in all the time you've known her, afraid. Nimueh has more power than she, after all, and you are beginning to doubt this night. "Morgana, we need your help."

"No, darling girl." Nimueh's lips twist up. "We need your _blood_."

"Excuse me?" You summon up your dignity and glare at Nimueh. You aren't a scared child anymore. You've lived at the heart of Uther's court and manipulated the King into trusting you, you'll not be cowed by a sorceress who has sulked in the Other World for over twenty years.

"So righteous. Just like your father." Nimueh murmurs. Morgause flinches. You have to force yourself to look her in the face. "You're going to justify your existence today Morgana."

"My right to live has nothing to do with my parentage." You brace your feet in the good soil. "And I want justifications from you. Let's start with why you killed Queen Igraine."

Nimueh tosses her head and laughs. It's a mad sound.

"The power of life and death is not mine to master. Uther made his choice." You look at her with cold blankness, and do not respond. It's a stonefaced technique you learned from Uther when he wanted to force people into confessions. "And she was not important."

"You tell that to the thousands Uther killed in vengeance." You spit back at her. "Tell that the man whose heart you broke, and broke again when you let Mary Collins go back to Camelot and kill his son." Nimueh freezes.

"Do not think to blame this on me." And you can't blame it on Nimueh. But you also cannot blame it on Uther, because if someone killed Merlin you could see yourself destroying all the world to avenge him. "And anyway, this will all be over soon."

"What do you mean by that?" You ask. Fear is crawling in your stomach. You do not let it show in your voice. "I hardly see you and Uther working out a peace treaty."

At this late date, not even Nimueh's death would satisfy Uther. Now that he has set himself as the enemy of all magic, his pride won't let him stop.

"But you are his bloodkin." Nimueh whispers. "Your blood can drown him."

You step back as she advances. Morgause has moved to your side, and she clutches your elbow, holding you in place. You cast a quick betrayed glance at your sister. She is resolute, if pale.

"This is not much, Morgana. We don't need much." You shake your head.

"No! I am not going to be an accessory to the murder of Uther, he is…" Your father. A man who in a convoluted way seems to love you. Your _father_. "A bitter old man. Wait for him to die in the winter, it won't take long."

"I am through waiting." Nimueh hisses. There's stark madness in her eyes. The moonlight is fading, you look upwards and see with horrified eyes that an eclipse is covering the moon and bathing all of you in red light. This is why Nimueh has not struck at you before now. She needs the red moonlight. This is a ritual, something ancient and powerful that Merlin never taught you because he was never fool enough to meddle in these things. "To save a life, a life must be taken. To make a death, a part of the whole must be destroyed."

Morgause wobbles back. "We don't need to kill her."

"Fool." Nimueh throws up a hand and you are blown back. Vines wind from the ground, thorny vines, piercing your skin and sending rivulets of blood down your forearms. They secure you, and some are in your hair, baring your throat. You choke and struggle. "If Uther is to drown in her blood, he'll need more than a cut. Only lifeblood kills."

The future hits you.

_Your throat torn out, blood flowing from it and staining the ground, too much blood to fit in one person. Your eyes wide, life leaving them. Uther crying out in a meeting with his councilors, blood gurgling from his mouth as your blood fills his lungs. He falls to his knees and the crown rolls from his head. It rolls through the rapidly spreading circle of blood. Not one of the fleeing dignitaries or nobles or servants pick it up, they stare at it in terror. Nimueh picking it up. Your sister in her dungeons, struggling in magic chains. Merlin's gold eyes as he looks up at the queen of Camelot from the courtyard, and from his outstretched hand roars lightning. His eyes are dark, and civil war rocks Albion as the lands split into feudal fiefdoms and northern warriors sweep into Camelot, a handsome young man who must be Lancelot falls in battle, Gwen stands at his grave and swigs poison, Merlin sits in a tower and looks over the destroyed lands with no pity. _

"No!" You scream, and magic in you rushes to the surface. You rock away from Nimueh and her outstretched hand, nails elongated and looking like claws. They swipe only your cheek, and your magic struggles against the vines.

They're too strong, of course. Nimueh's magic is powerful on levels you don't even want to dream of. Morgause leaps forward and her eyes are turning gold to fight against Nimueh, to fight for you, because your sister is not foul. She is like Uther, not told the true price of a deal by Nimueh.

You can't fight these chains. You know that. You stretch out your magic in another way, trying to imitate Mordred and his uncanny ability to speak in thoughts.

Because there is one person who loves you, and can fight this monster.

_**Merlin! MERLIN!**_ You scream into the nether regions of the mind. You feel a sudden stirring, see Merlin in your mind's eye. He is turning around, his eyes widening, in Gaius's chambers eating dinner. His eyes see yours, see through yours, see Nimueh and rage that is not yours ripples through you.

_**I'm coming.**_ It's barely a conscious thought because Merlin is moving already. Your magic wanes, it's not strong enough for a long connection of that sort, but your work's been done. You grin at Nimueh with bared teeth.

Morgause bought you this time. She has flung herself at Nimueh and attacked her with magic. It was utterly unexpected. Nimueh must have thought that Morgause was obedient enough to the most powerful practitioner in the world that she wouldn't see beneath the façade of sanity. Or the façade of servant hood, where Merlin lurks, and Merlin is more powerful than Nimueh.

The element of surprise didn't do enough for Morgause. Nimueh flings her away with magic, disdainfully twitching her fingers and snapping the bones of Morgause's leg. Morgause lets out a sobbing breath.

"Now, to business." Nimueh pants. She turns at you and raises the claw-like fingers again. "You should have fled when you knew that your bloodline was foul."

You feel Merlin before Nimueh does. It gives you courage to laugh in her face. Nimueh's face twists with fury, then the ground rumbles. The night is no longer dead and in terror, it's become infused with wrath. The very trees are quivering.

Merlin comes into the clearing riding a hurricane. That's the best you can describe it, because something has been done to you. Perhaps it's the strain of using so much magic, or the blood still leaking from dozens of tiny punctures, but your mind is slipping.

It's clear enough for you to see the battle. Nimueh's eyes widen and fear flickers through them. Who would not be afraid to see Merlin descending with blazing gold eyes and the forces of creation held in his hands?

Morgause certainly is, she's staring at Merlin like she's never seen him before, and it's true that she really never has. Merlin raises a hand and the vines dissolve into dust. You slump down, unable to support your own weight.

Nimueh flings up her hands and fire coalesces around them. She throws it at Merlin and Merlin bats it away with pure white light, that counters the bloody tinge of the night. Merlin tips his head up with his burnished gold eyes, and one hand goes to the heavens.

It's like your dream, but worse. Lightning rips down from the heavens, though there are no clouds, and Nimueh tries to stop it. She fails, the glimmering dome of blue light in her palm nothing compared to the white fire that slices apart the sky.

The greatest enchantress in the world dies in a howl of lightning. Morgause covers her eyes. You aren't sure you're capable of shutting your own. Merlin watches, and then cups his hand and lifts it to the heavens to meet the other. He pushes at the sky.

The eclipse rolls from the moon. The night is once more bathed in silvery light, and you can feel the relief of the forest. Merlin runs to your side. He grabs your shoulders, eyes wide and gold and panicked.

"Bloodlines curse." Morgause croaks. He barely pays attention to her. You try to smile at him. Merlin picks you up, and you'd be happy to die in his arms this way, except you don't want to die. And you don't think you're going to.

"Go." Merlin tells Morgause. "And be glad that you fought for Morgana."

You rest your head on his shoulder, and Merlin takes you to Camelot. You're not sure how. It's like a vortex spins around you both, making you close your eyes, and then you feel the warmth of candles and a horrified gasp from Gwen and you are sure these are your chambers.

The feeling is reinforced when Merlin lays you down on a silk sheet, and this is definitely your bed. You just can't seem to open your eyes. Merlin leans down and presses his lips to yours, and you float into a blissful sleep.

* * *

><p>When you awake, it is to the sound of Gwen's quiet sobs. You blink and sit up. You slept like the dead. You've been dressed in a nightgown and laid beneath the sheets, and the abrasions on your skin tended to.<p>

"Gwen?" She looks up and only bawls harder. "Gwen, what's going on?"

"I-I-it's-" She's not coherent. You rise from the bed and kneel at her side. "I didn't mean to!"

"Gwen, dear, what has happened?" The first thought it that something happened to Lancelot. But he wasn't involved at all in the scene in the clearing, so what could have happened?

"I-It's, it's Uther!" Gwen looks at you with bloodshot eyes and a tearstained face. "Merlin's to be executed."

"What?" You ask softly. All the breath has been stolen from your lungs. Gwen nods miserably.

"You were gone from your chambers so I ran for the guard because you would have _told_ me if you and Merlin were sneaking away for a night, and then Merlin appeared holding you and Uther burst into the room just as he kissed you." Gwen is shaking, but the story is told. "He's going to execute him at dawn, but I couldn't just _leave_ you, and you wouldn't wake!"

"No." You murmur. You rush to the window. The pyre is made. It's stacked with wood, and people are assembling. It's not too late. You are Uther's daughter. "He'll listen to me."

"He's accusing Merlin of, of," Gwen closes her eyes. "Of trying to assault you. Of hurting you. I swear by all the gods Morgana, I did not know!"

"He cannot!" You cry. You run for the chamber door. Gwen pushes herself into your way and barely gets a deep blue shawl to cover you, tying it as you stride down passageways.

It is not too late. Uther is drinking his wine, and all the people in the court who will watch Merlin die to gain Uther's favor are assembled. You stare at Uther from the doorway. He turns his head away from you.

"Don't kill him." You say, your mouth newly dry. Uther is not inclined to be merciful today. You can see it in his eyes. The court shifts uneasily.

"He was in your chambers kissing you, Morgana, his crime is clear." Uther finishes the goblet. "Do you care to watch with me?"

You numbly walk forward. There are guards all around. You are exhausted. What can you do without your sword, with your only ally this helpless maidservant and perhaps her lover, against this man? Uther is uneasy as you approach him, looking like he would back away but that he won't lose face in front of the court that way.

"Please." You whisper.

"No."

You fall to your knees before Uther. The court gasps as one, and becomes dead silent. You stare up at Uther as Gwen hovers on the sidelines. If she hadn't been the one who called the guards, she'd probably be burning with Merlin.

"I am begging you." You say, looking up at him. You hair is undone and falling around you, your blue cover against your white nightgown starkly contrasts the reds of Camelot. "I am pleading with you as your daughter, to spare him."

"He has dared things no servant could." In a horrified stupor, you see him moving away from you. He's not going to relent. He's going to execute Merlin for doing nothing more than saving your life, and loving you.

"I love him!" You cry to your father's back. Uther freezes, and slowly turns back to you.

"I beg your pardon?" That's a dangerous voice.

"Please, I am on my _knees_ before you, pleading. I have been dutiful, I have my right to love him, and that he loves me in return is no crime, love is not against your laws! Banish him, let us leave together, I'll go and you'll never have to look me in the face again." Lie, lie, lie. You've been anything but dutiful. Merlin's crime last night was to use magic in Camelot, and you committed it with him, and love might as well be against Camelot's laws, it's so frowned on.

"You're hysterical." Truth. Uther walks away. You've begun to cry, and maybe it's the stress of nearly being killed a night ago but you can't think, and you scramble to your feet-huh, you never put on shoes-and run after him.

"Father!" You scream at his back. Uther waves a hand.

"Guards, restrain her." Two burly guards go for you. They obviously don't know what to do, whether to roughly handle you or barely touch you. You solve the problem by kicking one in the balls and slapping the other, and rushing after Uther anyway. He stares at you incredulously.

"You are a broken old man, and in the end your own shriveled black heart will destroy you!" You howl at him as new guards grab you. These wrap arms around your waist, clap chains on your wrists. Why must the guards choose now to be quick learners?

Uther looks at you with murderous eyes. You stare back with the same eyes, but yours are laced with tears and you don't have the power to kill him.

"Take her to the dungeons. Let her watch from the window." You cry and shriek and struggle as you are dragged away, making a spectacle in front of the entire court, no doubt. Maybe the marriage proposals will stop! No one marries a madwoman!

Thoughts like that dash around your mind as you are hurled into the dungeons. You grab at the bars and shake them, but these bars have withstood greater criminals than you. You run to the window, a tiny slit just above your eye level that lets you see the feet of the spectators.

"Merlin!" You scream out. "Merlin!"

No one hears you. There are too many drums. They must be marching him out now. You scream and now your throat is hoarse, but no one hears. Uther's voice rings out, and though no one hears _you_, the command "Light it!" comes though the window loud and clear.

There's a mighty whoosh of air. The feet you're watching stumble back, as cries mingle with yells and Uther's bellow of rage. People scatter every which way, and you see a column of fire fifty feet high roaring into the air.

You slide down the side of cell, gripped by hysterical laughter. Has Merlin escaped? Has he decided to go out with a roar? Who knows! You laugh all night, and it sounds like sobs.

* * *

><p>Uther lets you out in the morning. You snarl at him and push past, ignoring the shocked looks of the faces of the nobles. There just might be some sympathy there as well. Uther threw a beautiful young girl into the dungeons when she tried to defend a man she loved. This might tip the scales of sympathy in the court.<p>

But you don't care. You go to your chambers and crumple on the bed, unable to do any more crying. All you can do is sit on your bed and stare at nothing. No Merlin flutters to the window. Merlin isn't stupid. He'll have quit Camelot, unless he's died. Either way, he can't return.

Gwen comes in, smelling like a man's chambers, and you shelter in her arms.

"When they lit the pyre, it burned up. The explosion licked the corners of the square, but it didn't hurt anyone, and people are talking about that. A few people with maladies claim they've been cured." She tells you quietly, stroking your hair.

"He'd do that." You choke out. The thought of Merlin's kindness is unbearable.

"Did you know?" Gwen asks. Her tone is careful. "That Merlin was a sorcerer?"

"Did I…" you begin to laugh. Hysterics grip you as you think of the way you met him on a magic island and how he cured your wounds and how he has the most powerful magic of any in the world and your own magic responded so well to him. Gwen rocks you back and forth until you can think again. "Yes."

"Oh." Gwen is silent. "You didn't turn him in."

"I could never…" You are dangerously close to more hysteria. You look at Gwen and try to use magic, finding dredges. Your eyes flash gold, only enough to ruffle the curtains on the bed. Gwen makes a gulping sound.

You prepare to be pushed away. Gwen just sighs and keeps holding you.

"No wonder. I'm sorry for you." She'll bear this secret.

That's not much comfort. You rest your head against your only friend's shoulder, and are wracked with grief.

**A/N: Review?**


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